


Anthem for Doomed Youth

by LucyInTheSkye



Series: The First Wizarding War or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Start Loving my Soul [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Banter, Bittersweet, Boarding School, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, F/M, First Love, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Getting Together, Growing Up, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, M/M, MWPP, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Pranks, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, Whomping Willow Incident, breaking up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 81
Words: 176,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyInTheSkye/pseuds/LucyInTheSkye
Summary: James celebrates Christmas by drugging himself on powdered thestral-hoof (as a joke), Remus visits Madagascar (it’s sunny and it brings out his freckles), Peter takes up smoking (and quits), and Sirius flat-out refuses to read Nature’s Nobility ever again (he would also like to make it clear that he detests the Christmas decorations in Grimmauld Place).This version of events takes place from December 1975 to April 1976. There were some animals hurt in the telling of this story, but the boys would like to ensure you that the Giant Squid isn’t one of them.





	1. Did I drink too much, am I losing touch, did I build this ship to wreck?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Wilfred Owen's 1917 poem.
> 
> Chapter 1 title from "Ship to Wreck" by Florence + The Machine.
> 
> The reason this has an Explicit rating is some of the smut in later chapters, and almost all chapters suit a lower rating. 
> 
> I prefer to not use too many tags, but this story does contain several elements that might not be everybody’s cup of tea and I will list them here. The most obvious one is that the four main characters have just, or are about to, turn 16, which, depending on where you’re from, might make this an uncomfortable read. 
> 
> In no particular order, the story will at some point contain the following: drinking, smoking, swearing, casual drug use, physical and mental child abuse (I’d rate it M), some blood and injury, domestic violence (not graphic), gay and straight sex (oral and vaginal; some explicit, some funny, some gross, some sweet, and some almost realistic), insensitive musings on sexual orientation, one instance of non-consensual groping, instances of dubious or incomplete consent, non-graphic implied past paedophilia, bullying, racism aimed at muggleborns, risky and dangerous behaviour, misuse of mind-altering potions, and some derogatory language. 
> 
> To make a less depressing list, the story also contains the following: murtlaps, the different soaps in the Prefects’ Bathroom, the giant squid getting a tour of the castle, the Slytherins getting collective ornithophobia, detention with Filch, MWPP running wild in the Forbidden Forest, a whole chapter of quidditch, gothic descriptions of the interior of Grimmauld Place, and plenty of sneaking around Hogwarts after hours.

There was a much too eager hand groping around inside his trousers. It didn’t mesh well with everything else that was happening, which was why Sirius was reluctantly beginning to conclude that some of this might be a dream. 

“What a beauty.”

That statement, for instance, didn’t fit. The voice was all wrong, for one, it sounded low and breathy and very London. James had a West Country accent; Remus mostly sounded Welsh and Peter could never hide that he was from the Midlands. He could still see all three of them; they were on the Hogwarts Express with him, down on the floor of the carriage, and they were playing exploding snap. He knew this because he had just watched the card his best mate James had tried to put on top of the pile explode. 

It didn’t smell much like smoke around him though, maybe a little bit of cigarettes. But more of really bad body odour and spirits and that particular unclean smell the pavements of really large cities exuded. 

“Shhh now, no need to wake up.” 

The hand was becoming really insistent. Sirius prick wasn’t reacting to much of anything, though, he was probably too drunk. He was nauseous, at least, but would he really be drunk on the Hogwarts Express? He felt something akin to a burp begin to build, and with it the worry that he would throw up if he burped. 

“Wha’s goin’ on ‘ere?”

It was another voice that didn’t belong in the train compartment Sirius had been so sure he was in; this one was proper Cockney. Uncouth and muggle, as his mother would say. Bloody marvellous, Sirius thought. 

“Don’t mind us, the lad’s had one too many.”

“Step away from ‘im, righ’ now!”

The second voice was surprisingly commanding, but Sirius was truly not feeling well enough to follow any instructions right now. James’s face had frozen peculiarly in his head, and Sirius couldn’t stop the burp anymore.

“Fuck.”

It was much like he had thought; it was not an innocent burp. There apparently wasn’t that much in his stomach, just the dregs of whatever he’d been drinking, but he thought he did a thorough job of vomiting onto his own shoulder. The hand didn’t leave him though, he was still being fondled. People were strange.

“'e needs ‘elp and you be’er scarper if you know wha’s good for you.”

“We can share, if you like.”

Sirius shuddered and spat out some more of what was blocking his airways. Everything tasted and smelled of acidic vomit, it felt like he’d gotten some in his nostrils, too. The cold and hard thing underneath him wasn’t the floor of a compartment in the Hogwarts Express, and his friends weren’t here. It was beginning to dawn on him that he needed to pull himself together and run. There was a scuffle beside him, and the foreign hand finally left his prick alone. He turned on his side and tried to vomit again. There was only bile coming up. Then there were new hands, and if he could only get back on his feet it’d be lights out for whoever this strange man was. 

“I’s awrigh’, 'e’s all gone. Le’s ge' you ‘ome, yeah?”

Sirius was pulled into a sitting position, which didn’t agree with his head at all. He was ice cold. The warm hands were on his arms, now, and he hoped that was a good sign. One of them held him steady and the second emerged with what was probably a handkerchief. The side of his face and his neck was rubbed with it and Sirius couldn’t help but think that a simple ‘scourgify’ would have done a tenfold better job. 

“Whereabouts d’you live, mate?” 

“Grimmauld Place.” Sirius was rather surprised he was able to talk, and less surprised that what he said came out laced with despair. He’d rather live anywhere else. 

“You’re in the righ’ square, then. Need me to lead you to your doorstep?” 

“Twelve,” Sirius stuttered out without thinking. The other man grabbed his vomit-free arm and started walking him through the little parklike square in the middle of Grimmauld Place. Sirius opened his eyes then; it would appear he had temporarily forgotten that he had eyes. They worked just fine, even though the bare trees and the dirty brick houses and the low walls were spinning and spinning. The man beside him was in a heavy grey winter coat and had a cheerful, red scarf around his neck. Sirius tried to look at his face, but that made him stumble and they had to stop as the man got a better grip on him before they could continue. 

“Tha’s number fir’een now, jus’ one more.”

“Bugger,” Sirius muttered as he realized that the next house might not, in fact, be number twelve. Not for the muggle, anyway. 

“Tha’s odd, innit?”, the man predictably said as they came to a halt. 

“Thanks ever so much,” Sirius said as he gripped the wall next to him. The man’s hand left him.

“You sure this is the righ’ one, lad?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, trying to sound emphatic. He managed to get a look of the man’s face now, he was standing in front of Sirius and looking confusedly from one house to the other. He was middle aged with a beard and glasses, and he didn’t look like a dashing hero or a strong fighter. Just normal and boring. “You can leave now. Have a good night.”

The man gave him a last look, then shrugged and started walking. He did it slowly, and he looked back several times. 

Sirius used the wall for support as he made his way to number twelve, which was right there. Sirius’s father had gone on a bit of a spree last summer and made the house completely and utterly invisible to muggles. Before it had still been difficult for them to spot it, but with the help of a wizard they could, and they had even been able to enter the house, as Sirius had discovered and taken full advantage of. His father had not appreciated these visits when he found out. 

The steps took ages for Sirius to conquer, but the door was unlocked, and Sirius entered without falling over. He was fumbling and his steps were uncoordinated, but he didn’t think he was making that much noise. He forced himself to stop shivering. The best thing that could be said about Grimmauld Place was that it wasn’t freezing cold. Not most rooms, anyway. He stopped in front of the large mirror in the hallway, just to see.

The boy who looked back at him had just turned sixteen, but he could usually get away with it if he needed to pretend to be older. Somehow, though, he felt like he hadn’t fooled either of the two men he met in the square outside tonight.

‘Met’ might not be the right word for all of that, either. 

Sirius’s eyes were very beautiful, much too beautiful for a boy as his mother used to say when he was small. She didn’t say anything about his eyes anymore. His skin was pale as anything, it always took on a dramatic hue in the winter. He didn’t normally mind, but tonight he looked unquestionably ill. His hair still looked alright, except for the wetness on the right side. That would be the spew. His mouth was very red, he looked like he’d been kissed and kissed… Sirius shuddered. He hoped it was from earlier, he was moderately sure he had stumbled upon a muggle house party somewhere around Angel. He thought he remembered spending hours there, dancing and smoking and drinking at the very least. He thought there might have been more to it, but there was no reason why he would need to remember it. 

There was something off about his reflection the more he looked, and he hoped to Merlin that this mirror wasn’t becoming sentient, too. There was enough of that going on in this house already.

He had been wearing a lovely muggle leather jacket tonight and not a winter cloak, and he would need to get Kreacher to make him something to combat a cold tomorrow. On top of that his jacket was ruined now, he might as well bin it. The shirt underneath was a plain, equally muggle one, and he knew it would smell something awful of sweat once he removed the jacket. The activities he’d engaged in tonight had in no way been kind to his body or his outfit. 

His great grandfather, who hung from a large, silver frame next to the mirror, was shaking his head disapprovingly at him, but he didn’t speak. The portraits in Grimmauld Place rarely did. They could laugh, a loose, insane laugh they all seemed to share. And they would scream, occasionally. 

He spotted something behind him in the reflection and he tried to turn, but he wasn’t fast enough. The only things behind him were the staircase and the decapitated house elf heads, a full dozen of them, all staring blindly at him from above. There was a low moan from somewhere, perhaps from the dining room, but Sirius decided not to acknowledge it. Instead he moved to the staircase. It would always creak at some point, but which step varied. The house didn’t like to be predictable, much like Sirius himself. Unfortunately, the house didn’t like him much, never had. It liked his parents, he thought, maybe his father in particular. His father was interested in the house, how it was pieced together, how the magic inside of it worked. Orion hadn’t tamed it, indeed Sirius didn’t think it was the type of house that could be tamed anymore, but there was mutual respect there. His mother, on the other hand, was a bit theatrical and the house did make for a nice backdrop when one wished to cause a scene or make a dramatic entrance. Sirius could see the appeal.

The fifth step groaned with an obscene loudness underneath Sirius’s foot. He didn’t stop but continued his unsteady ascent, hoping for the best despite it all. He couldn’t hear any human noises, just the house.

The first landing was massive, probably because it led off to all the important rooms, like the drawing room with the family tree and the parlour with the grand piano. The landing was decorated for Christmas, although what had been done was far from cheerful. There was a tree there, somewhat blocking the view of the severed elf-heads on plaques. The tree was made from silver, even the needles, and it was hung with an exclusive assortment of sheer, dark grey baubles and emerald snakes that writhed lazily on the branches, some hiding and ready to strike if someone they didn’t like passed by too closely. Sirius made that mistake at least once every Christmas.

He could hear them hiss as he passed, but he didn’t do anything. He had tried to change the tree one year, had felt it could do with a new colour scheme. The tree itself was easy enough to change into a golden colour, as he now knew, and the baubles into a warm copper. The snakes had not taken kindly to his attempt at turning them into miniature lions, though, and he had had to receive three types of antidotes for snakebites, not to mention the jagged bitemarks that had taken days to heal. His mother had changed the baubles and the tree back to silver and grey first, though, and cooed a little at the snakes to calm them down. That her oldest son was thrashing around by her feet, bleeding profusely and slowly dying from three different types of venom, had of course been a secondary concern to that of restoring tradition. 

The library and the study along with a few spare rooms nobody had used in Sirius’s lifetime were on the next floor. One of the doors opened as he walked past, but Sirius was used to the house trying to lure him in and he didn’t even give it a second look. He could hear the same door snick shut as he reached the third floor, which was the floor that really counted. This was the one with his parent’s bedrooms. 

Instead of trying to sneak even more quietly he upped his pace. If he made it to his bedroom before they woke up, he would be safe. He could hear a few notes of the piano all the way from the first floor. They were all in D minor, except for the last note which didn’t belong, it sounded false and jarring as it rang out in the night.

The next floor was more of a half landing, with an old nursery filled with semi-sentient toys and a large bathroom. Sirius was itching for a proper bath and a brush of his teeth, but if he were to go in there he was bound to get caught. He was still drunk out of his mind, but the need for stealth and the unexpected success of his mission to sneak in had made him a bit clearer in the head, and Sirius continued up the stairs towards the safety of his room and his wand. He’d been an idiot to go out without his wand tonight.

The top floor had just two rooms; Sirius’s and Sirius’s brother’s. Regulus’s door was closed and the sign he’d put up to keep Sirius out glared into the night. Sirius turned to his own door and pushed it open. It opened noiselessly; his room generally didn’t mind him as much as the rest of the house did. He threw open the windows immediately; it would be morning soon although the square was still under the cover of darkness, some muggle streetlights and Christmas lights all he could see. He could hear some drunk women arguing, and some muggle traffic, but it was unusually quiet for London. His wand was on his desk and he tried to force himself to be careful as he cast a ‘scourgify’ over himself. He still shuddered as it left all of him feeling scrubbed raw, although it left him spotlessly clean and smelling vaguely of roses. It was a smell that reminded him of his mother, and he wondered with some anger why the charm was still coming out like that. He could do with less reminders of his family bonds rather than more. He lit another fag instead of brushing his teeth and he sat there on his desk by the window and tried to clear his mind of all that had happened that evening. He didn’t need to know, didn’t need to analyse, it would be better to forget. He did spare the muggle man who’d helped him a kind thought, however, it was a nice reminder that there were good people everywhere, people who would help you without expecting anything in return. 

He finally cast a fluoride cleansing charm on the inside of his mouth and was left feeling as if he’d downed gallons of minty ice water. It was infinitely better than the spew. He got down on his bed, carefully as he was hurting in odd places, numb in others, and pulled the blankets around him. Grimmauld Place hadn’t eaten him yet, but if it did, he hoped it would happen while he slept.


	2. How do I feel by the end of the day (are you sad because you're on your own?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "With a Little Help from my Friends" by The Beatles.

Peter was standing on the veranda of his mother's house. He had just sent Odin, James’s owl, back to James with a letter. James had told him to stop by anytime he fancied, and Peter wondered how many days he would be able to pop over without it being too many. It wasn’t really taking advantage of James’s and James’s parents’ hospitality; Peter was a welcome guest in their house, always had been. 

James was the best friend anyone could have; he was funny, easy-going and he always came up with things to do. Peter did his best to please his friend, and this exchange had always worked well. James’s parents were quite cool, too, Fleamont was possibly not all there and even though Euphemia gave a stern and superior impression, she didn’t really set any rules and her son (and in extension his friends) were allowed to come and go as they pleased. Their house was big and warm and filled with food of varying quality and there was a field behind the house you could get away with doing almost anything in; drinking, flying on brooms, food fights, looking at muggle porn mags, planning pranks or successfully practicing to become animagi. Peter loved visiting the Potters.

“You really are useless, aren’t you, you fat bint? Can’t even figure out how to work a simple ‘reparo’.”

The voice was so cold Peter barely recognized it, and once he did he couldn’t think who his mother’s boyfriend was speaking to. Then he heard a little sniff that he recognized as belonging to his mum.

“Still out here, Pete?” 

“Yeah.” Peter smiled back at the tall, thin man who was grinning so easily at him. He had thick lips and one of his front teeth was chipped. His mother’s boyfriend was a very friendly man as a rule, always cracking jokes for Peter to laugh at and telling Peter stories from his work. Rollo Shunpike was a clerk in the Office for Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry, and he had met Mrs Pettigrew in Dervish and Banges during the summer, where they had both attempted to buy the same enchanted lawnmower. Somehow, one thing had led to another, and nowadays Rollo stayed at Peter’s mum’s house even when it wasn’t the weekend or a holiday. 

Peter’s father had left the family and moved to Canada around ten years ago and stopped keeping in touch with Peter around nine years ago. Peter’s mum insisted that this wasn’t a loss and that they were better off without ‘that scared little mouse’ anyway. She did, however, frequently tell Peter that it was a shame he had to take after his father so much. Peter privately disagreed; he looked like his mother and he thought they were rather similar in manner, too. Short and chubby with bright blue, sensitive eyes and pointy noses. They both suffered terrible hay fever in the summer. Mrs Pettigrew perhaps had less filter than he did; unlike Peter she liked telling people to their face what she disliked about them. 

Or at least she always had, before she met Rollo. For some reason, Peter had never heard her say a bad word about him, although he occasionally teased her, which logically should have coaxed a response out of her. She liked having the last word, did Peter’s mum. But she didn’t with Rollo, and as far as Peter understood it this must mean that Rollo was perfect. 

Rollo lit a cigarette and eyed Peter thoughtfully through the smoke. Peter sniffed a little and wondered if he should go back inside. He preferred Rollo’s company to his mothers, though, and Rollo didn’t seem annoyed with Peter’s presence.

“Want a ciggy?” he offered, suddenly producing a second cigarette from his pocket. Peter’s eyes almost bulged out of his head with surprise.

“Ok,” he said a bit lamely, although he didn’t much like cigarettes. He couldn’t tell Rollo that though, he wasn’t supposed to tell adults he had tried smoking. Sirius was into that sort of thing, and of course they had all had to try it out a few times. James had decided it was disgusting, which Peter had felt a great relief for. It meant Peter didn’t have to do it anymore, even if Sirius teased him for not smoking.

Peter gave a small cough as he inhaled, and Rollo grinned as though this was exactly right. 

“Will you be seeing your friends over the holidays?” Rollo asked. “Potter and the others?”

“James wants me to come over, so I definitely will. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Does he live in a big house?” Rollo asked curiously.

“Maybe double the size of this,” Peter said, after a hasty look behind him at the wall of his mum’s house. “They’re quite rich.”

“Bloody purebloods, right?” Rollo said with another friendly grin. 

“You can’t actually tell from the way they are,” Peter said importantly, a need to defend James rising out of years of practice. Peter still thought it was preferable to be pureblood over anything else, but the only two purebloods he knew acted as if the concept was tainted and outdated. It wasn’t easy to wrap your head around it, looking from the outside in. Still, Peter supposed they would know. “I mean, they’re classy but they’re not up themselves or anything. And they don’t hold with any of that ideology nonsense.” 

“Ideology nonsense?” Rollo repeated, still grinning. His tongue played with the hole left in his front tooth, and it looked like an animal, taunting from within its cage. Peter realized he was mocking the word choice, or maybe the idea that Peter would know anything about political ideologies in the first place. With James and Sirius as his best friends it was impossible to not know words like that, though. Peter blushed and smoked some more. It was all in good fun, of course, but Peter could never listen to anyone tease James, even if it was a well-meant joke. 

“Are your other friends posh as well?”

“James is rich, not posh,” Peter said quietly. “My friend Sirius is posh, I suppose, and my friend Remus is dirt-poor.”

“Strange mix,” Rollo commented and lit another fag. “What family is the posh one from?”

“He’s called Black,” Peter said uncomfortably and watched Rollo’s eyebrows travel up his forehead. 

“No kidding?”

“First one ever in Gryffindor,” Peter stated unnecessarily.

“ _Really_ strange mix,” Rollo continued. “But you ending up in Gryffindor was a bit of a surprise too, if I’m to believe your mother.”

Peter nodded uncomfortably. His mum had been in Slytherin and his father in Hufflepuff. It was quite true that nobody had seen Gryffindor coming. 

“Is it just the four of you in the year? Boys, I mean. Or why are you all friends?”

“We’re best friends, all four of us,” Peter said importantly. There were just the four of them in Gryffindor in their year, four boys and five girls. But that didn’t make their friendship any less special, surely?

“No offence, Pete, forgive an old man for being curious,” Rollo said.

“You’re not old,” Peter said, feeling a bit awkward now. Rollo was nice, of course he didn’t mean to question Peter’s great friendship. “We just go together really well. James is brilliant at everything, and Sirius is cool, and Remus is kind and helps and listens.” Peter drew breath and stared confusedly straight ahead. “And I –“ 

Rollo raised a sympathetic eyebrow and waited.

“James says I’m funny and that I always play Exploding Snap with him when he asks. And Remus says I help keep us together, all four of us. That it would just be James and Sirius on their own otherwise.” 

“If you say so,” Rollo said, and Peter thought there was a lot of kindness in his voice. He wasn’t sure why that was, but for some reason it didn’t make him feel as good as it should do. Peter dropped the fag to the ground (it had gone out some time ago) and Rollo tutted a little before he got his wand out and vanished it. 

“Cheers,” Peter said uncomfortably. He was getting a bit cold now and he didn’t like how thoroughly he smelled of cigarette smoke. “I’m going in.”

Peter stepped inside and was met by the sight of his mother. She was drying dishes and it almost looked as if she had been crying. Peter opened his mouth, trying to find something to say. Should he ask what was wrong? He had thought she was happy now; it had been a great relief to think she was happy. He didn’t like having to worry about her. Then she sniffed angrily in his direction, unsubtly telling him that she could smell the smoke on him. Peter blushed and fled upstairs before she could tell him off.


	3. His vow unto his own, that never from this day, his will they'll take away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Metallica's "The Unforgiven".

“I received quite the letter from your Head of House last week.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks, but then he tried to relax, tried to look less like prey and more like a grown-up who could fend for himself. He knew his father detested both, but to Sirius the distinction was important.

“She wrote that she had caught you out after hours, in a compromising position with another student, and requested that me and your mother have a discussion with you about such matters over the holidays. She rather implied that this wasn’t a one-time occurrence.”

Orion was leaning lazily against the doorframe to Sirius’s room. He had short black hair and silvery eyes and he was deceptively fine-boned. He had already summoned the wand that was his son’s, it had come flying out of a nest of dirty robes and schoolbooks on the floor. Orion’s fingers went carefully over the wood of the volatile wand in his hands. He wasn’t looking at his son at all, instead his bored and unimpressed gaze was focused on the wand. 

“Am I to understand that you’ve taken to practising copulation with some poor, misguided girl at Hogwarts? Is it another near-animal, perhaps? The state of the mudbloods they let into the school these days is something else, I’ve been told.”

Sirius’s mouth opened wide to shout his outrage about muggles being referred to as ‘near-animals’, or perhaps to explain in condescending terms how muggleborns could be just as brilliant as purebloods, with the added bonus of knowing everything about the muggle world, but nothing came out. Silenced, and by his own wand as well. He felt a wave of betrayal wash down his body, the realization that his wand still worked for his father, would still bend to his father’s will when in his hands, was a difficult one to swallow. 

“I thought I had made myself clear last summer when you took those two abnormalities into our home and did whatever unclean act it was on your bed.” Orion’s eyes strayed to the bed in question with a grimace. It was currently rumpled and covered in half-written letters and left-over sweets from the Hogwarts Express. The pictures of motorcycles and half-naked muggles posing seductively still covered the walls. Sirius could tell Orion was avoiding even looking at them, and he assumed that it was embarrassing for his parents that they hadn’t been able to undo the charm he had used to stick them to the wall. The Black family had always prided itself on producing magically talented witches and wizards, and despite all that was frequently said about Sirius’s dubious belongings to the family, he had inherited that skill. 

“I suppose it is something peculiar to Gryffindor house to practice breeding with anything that moves before you’ve even come of age? I certainly haven’t received any letters like this concerning Regulus’s behaviour. It is beneath me to have a son who can’t control his urges,” continued Orion dispassionately, “and you are extremely lucky that the letter was addressed to me and not to your mother. She would’ve taken your transgressions more personally.”

Sirius let out a silent breath, wondering what punishment he was in for. It was rare that Orion actually hurt him, usually his father just sent him to his room. Sometimes he was subjected to a scalding-hex on the inside of his mouth, or a mock-strangulation, certainly unpleasant but also things that healed in a day or two. On rare occasions, though, his father used real force. 

The wand barely moved, but Sirius felt as if he’d taken a granite boulder to the stomach, his body tried to double over but instead he was forced into a kneeling position, made extra humiliating by the tears in his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath. His arms were wrenched up from his sides, palms turned up for his father’s inspection. Sirius had an inkling of what was coming now. His father really wasn’t a man of great imagination. 

“Perhaps you remember what we used to do when you were younger and couldn’t keep your hands out of your trousers?” Orion asked coldly. The tip of the wand edged over the soft, pink flesh of Sirius’s palms. “As I see it, you’re still suffering from the same problem. The fact that you’re involving half-witted girls in these acts of depravity makes it all the more unfortunate.”

There was a flick of Sirius’s wand and he yelped, loudly as the previous spell had been lifted without his knowledge. Almost all layers of skin were flayed off his palms in a neat motion. Sirius could see trickles of blood appearing by his nails, where the hex had taken away too much of the skin. The rest was a raw, shiny red and looked ready to break at any moment. It felt horrible.

“This should encourage you to keep your hands off any temptations you might be presented with. If I find you touching anything you oughtn’t during the holidays, I’ll use the same hex on another body part of yours.” Orion looked at him smugly until he was sure that the message had sunk in. Then he flicked his son’s wand again. The skin didn’t return, but Sirius was able to get back up on his feet.

“We’ve got dinner in five minutes. Get into the dressrobes Kreacher put out for you and come downstairs. If you spill any food or eat in an improper fashion I won’t restore the skin until you go back to school.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sirius began, but his father merely gave him a nasty look before leaving his room. 

In the end he did go down to the dining room, where Christmas Eve dinner was being served. It was just the family tonight, along with grandfather Arcturus who was recently widowed and would be staying over the holidays. Christmas Day was the big celebratory dinner, and Sirius’s much hated cousins along with every mad aunt and uncle was coming.

Sirius cut his food with great precision and with unaccustomed silence as his parents and grandfather and brother chatted. His hands became more damaged with every movement, which of course was exactly what his father had intended. It was a matter of personal pride that his hands barely shook as he cut his food and lifted his goblet to drink, and he didn’t spill anything even as he watched beads of blood from his fingers discolour the family silver. He had absolutely no appetite, though, but this went unnoticed as his family largely ignored his presence. Sirius could see Regulus watching him a few times, and a mean little smile twisted his features as his eyes successfully hit upon what was wrong with his big brother. 

Regulus was the great hero of the family, the silver and green child that could do no wrong. As far as Sirius could remember it had always been like that, even before he was sorted into Gryffindor. But even so Sirius had been loved and cherished in the years before, always reprimanded and told off when he misbehaved of course, but he hadn’t been despised or ridiculed by the whole of his extended family back then. Things had changed when he came back from his first year at Hogwarts. 

“You can collect the plates and carry them to the kitchen,” his mother said suddenly, startling Sirius out of his thoughts. His mother was tall and thin and very beautiful. Something cruel was playing around her mouth and her eyes glittered with unashamed spite. 

Sirius stared at her with some exasperation. Her usual instinct to make the house elf do every bit of housework, no matter how menial, appeared to have been overruled by her desire to see him suffer. His brother, father and grandfather were laughing quietly. 

“We all know how fond of the muggle way you are, and they would clear their table by hand, wouldn’t they?”

“Do you think they even eat off plates?” Regulus asked innocently, trying to bait Sirius no doubt. Sirius ignored him and began clearing away the plates and the cutlery. They were surprisingly heavy and the pressure they put on his hands probably wasn’t too dissimilar to the torture curse, or so Sirius privately thought. His mother had started talking about the blood purity board she presided over, telling her family about the agenda they were putting together to hand in to the Ministry of Magic, and they all seemed to forget they were supposed to point and laugh at Sirius. He walked out of the dining room on quick feet, almost running down the stairs to the kitchen as he could feel more of his skin tearing with every second he had to carry the damned silver plates. 

Kreacher laughed maliciously as Sirius dumped the plates on the kitchen table with a clatter, and for once Sirius couldn’t even think of some suitable verbal abuse to throw Kreacher’s way. He stormed back up, all the way to the second last landing where the bathroom he and Regulus used was. 

The bathroom was covered in oriental jade and old English silver. The mirror growled at him, which was quite as usual, but he thought he could also hear the taps on both the bath and the sink hiss at him. They were all shaped like serpents. 

Sirius turned the sink’s cold and hot taps on with some difficulty, but before he had time to immerse his hands some instinct made him use just his little finger to check the water. It sizzled and burnt. The water from both taps was scolding hot and the mirror laughed cruelly as he swore. He wanted to shout and rage, curse the house he grew up in, the house that had tried to raise him and failed and now punished him just like his parents did for the same perceived crime. Instead he focused on the emotion, until he could feel it tingling in his flayed palms, mingling with the brute magic that coursed through his veins, just like it did in everyone else with the last name Black. With enormous effort he channelled his anger into turning the water cold, and soon enough his magic won over the magic of the house and he was able to wash his hands. 

He could sense already that this was not going to be a nice holiday.


	4. I handled my charm with time and slight of hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Seaside" by The Kooks.

Remus found himself on Madagascar of all places. He had travelled a lot as a small child, holidays under the guise of his father trying to find a cure for his werewolf son, but that had stopped some time before Remus had begun studying at Hogwarts. Money was tight on occasion as his father Lyall’s jobs were sporadic things and his mother Hope had decided to sell her little art gallery to become a stay-at-home mum instead. 

Lyall Lupin’s job fascinated Remus no end, but he was rarely allowed any detailed stories, it almost read as if his father was worried his son would start acting more like a dark creature if he was given too much information on boggart infestations or the secret societies of vampires in derelict Scottish castles. For Lyall was an expert on dark creatures, had in fact spent a lot of his life researching werewolves of all things. Life was funny that way, although father and son rarely laughed in each other’s company. Hope was the fun one, and with her Remus felt happy and sometimes almost carefree. 

Remus’s mother, who was a muggle armed with a splendid imagination, an impressive artistic side and very green thumbs, had been diagnosed with leukaemia in the summer. Magic couldn’t help with her muggle blood and as a family, Remus thought they were slowly starting to accept it. She had, at most, a year to live. 

For as long as Remus could remember, all focus in his little family had been on him. Remus didn’t like to be the centre of attention at the best of times, and when he was hurt and burdened by guilt he much preferred to be left alone. Neither of his parents were good at leaving him be. The elusive cure to his affliction was his father’s constant topic of conversation when they waited for the month to culminate in a full moon, and just before and just after his mother fussed incessantly at his side, asking him how he was feeling, if she could do anything to help with the pain, even promising him he would be alright. He was told she loved him several times a month, which he suspected was more than most children got. There was little she could do other than bring him hot chocolate in bed, but she would still ask every month and look at him with her wrinkled, expressive eyes filled with the type of worry that refused to be put to rest. 

Remus looked almost exactly like his mother, and except for the presence of magic there was very little to suggest that he had been made by two people and not just cloned from his mother. He got on very well with his mother, always had, and even though this was put to the test with their opposing needs every full moon, Remus continued to love her dearly and to enjoy her company whenever he didn’t want to be alone. His father, on the other hand, kept his distance for most of the time, and they all silently agreed it was just as well. Sometimes Remus didn’t think he knew his father at all, it was like living with an acquaintance who was obsessed with his disease. When father and son were in the same room together Lyall focused on talking about a cure for Remus, but sometimes he would slip and tell Remus something about the other dark creatures he seemed to know so well. Remus thought that what little companionship existed between them was solely because of those lapses on his father’s part, but he was quite certain that his father would disagree with that.

He was dragged back to the present and his holiday in the sun by light footsteps.

“Hello,” he said awkwardly. The Lupin’s were staying in a muggle hotel on the sunny African island nation, and a girl his age had just walked through the door. His parents were out on the beach and he was supposed to join them there. He was already wearing his high-waisted swimming trunks underneath his loose muggle summer clothing (the werewolf scar was on his hip and needed to be covered up at all times). 

The girl said something that sounded like “salama”, but that was just a guess. Remus did not speak the native language and everyone they had talked to so far had spoken English.

He gave her a shy smile, which she returned. Normally he would have tried to get away as quickly as possible, new people and social awkwardness and all that, but she really had an inordinately nice smile. It helped that there was no one else around, too, no Marauders eager to embarrass him and no parents who might disapprove.

She was playing with an intricate necklace in green and white and alternating between looking at him and at the floor. She was carrying some folded towels under one arm, and he guessed that she might be a cleaner, or more probably the daughter of the owners of the hotel.

The necklace broke. The girl gasped, hand at her throat, and they both stared at the green and white on the floor. Throwing his customary caution to the wind, Remus waved to get her attention, then pointed at himself and fiddled a bit with his fingers, then pointed back at the broken necklace. 

“I can fix it for you,” he said out loud. She stared sceptically at him as if she had understood him but didn’t think much of his skills in repairing jewellery. But then she smiled.

Still looking (mostly) at him, the girl backed into the en suite bathroom and dumped the new towels on a cabinet. Remus got down on the floor, bending his leg so that it would shield the necklace from view. Cursing his sudden impulsiveness (he was supposed to be the one who always thought things through, wasn’t he?) he got out his wand from his pocket and muttered ‘reparo’. 

It worked like a charm. The necklace was made mostly from wooden pearls, and the pieces flew back together seamlessly. Remus pocketed the wand again, hoping she hadn’t seen what he had done. As he looked up, he saw her wipe over the surfaces in the bathroom somewhat haphazardly. She was watching him in the mirror. Remus smiled again and she smiled back, pearly white teeth and dimples. She even giggled a little.

Remus really hoped he would get away with using underage magic on holiday. He thought he would, he was technically with his parents and surely the trace wouldn’t be felt from Madagascar all the way to the Ministry of Magic? The gnawing anxiety was there, though, but there was also the type of excitement that felt good, the type that made the insides of his belly flutter like it was filled with hyperactive little creatures learning how to fly.

Remus gave her back the necklace, which she accepted gratefully and with all smiles. Then he tried to help her make the beds. He was bad and she was clearly quite good at it, and it made her laugh. Her laughter reminded him of pearls, too, it sounded like a strand of precious pearls was being coaxed out of her mouth. Remus smiled from ear to ear and she seemed to find that just as appealing, her dark eyes looking from his eyes to his mouth. 

Then she began talking. It still wasn’t English, but Remus did her the curtesy of listening anyway. She laughed a lot as she spoke, and her voice was throaty and a little breathless.

“You live in a beautiful country,” Remus told her earnestly once she fell quiet. They were working on pillowcases, now. “It’s so warm and lovely here. Everyone seems nice and genuine, even though I know there’s some political instability and not a lot of money. But the nature here, and the people…” Remus fell quiet and watched her attentively. She was watching him right back and with the same fascination. They were done now, he thought, as he put down the last pillow on the bed. She smiled shyly at him again. He stretched out his hand to her, carefully and slowly. His palm felt clammy and he almost hoped that she wouldn’t take it. 

She took it.

Remus was frankly amazed with himself, what was he doing? And more to the point, what was he supposed to do now? 

The girl was advancing on him, his big sweaty paw in her warm and small one. She was right in front of him, now, on her tiptoes, angling her face up to his. He bowed his head; he felt rather tall in her company. Then she kissed him, and it was wonderful. 

Remus stood very still, holding her hand and closing his eyes in bliss. His neck was almost uncomfortably bent, but then she moaned into his mouth and he decided life probably couldn’t feel better than this. 

She broke the kiss after what felt like minutes and she left Remus rather breathless. When he opened his eyes she was looking just as bright and happy as before. She was playing with her necklace once more, and he stupidly hoped it would break again, just so that he could keep her in the room for a little longer, do her another favour. 

They stood there for what was probably minutes but to Remus felt like no time at all, and then she smiled one last time and picked up the old towels and sheets, necklace regrettably still intact.

A last bubbling smile and she exited the room, leaving Remus alone with his daydreams.


	5. See our friends, see the sights, feel alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Alright" by Supergrass.

Peter was walking through Diagon Alley with James. It was sunny and almost warm in London, although the people on the Knight Bus had spoken about a cold spell that was about to hit the south of England. There might even be snow for Christmas. Peter was warm all the way from his cheeks to his fingertips, however, in fact he was positively beaming. Such was the effect of walking in step with James Potter, in public where anyone and everyone was bound to see them. Peter Pettigrew, walking and laughing and listening to the stories that rushed out of James’s mouth, James Potter, the coolest kid in England. The whole of Britain, probably. Peter should ask Remus if there was anyone who could compare in Wales, but then, how could you get any cooler than James?

“My dad didn’t even notice that I was there, he was weighing these luminescent claws on the upside-down scales, and I managed to sneak right into his lab and get an ounce of the powdered thestral hooves. And he’s got two jars worth of the stuff, so he’ll never even know some of it’s gone missing.”

James was gesturing as he spoke, occasionally using his left hand to fluff up his bedraggled mop of hair, and his green-brown eyes shone with a vitality Peter wanted to soak up and trap in a jar of his own, keep a lid on it that he could open just a little whenever he was feeling down, to bask in the unbridled lifeforce James had in spades. But it could never be trapped, Peter knew, and maybe that was the reason it existed.

“It’ll go into the skeleton potion Moony found in the dodgy book in Slughorn’s private storage, of course, but get this -” James suddenly grabbed hold of an old-fashioned lamp post and began climbing it, thighs and bent arms quivering with exertion as his fur-trimmed maroon winter cloak billowed behind him in a sudden gust of wind. He looked every inch the strong hero, especially as he stopped close to the top, some way above Peter, with one hand and the sole of his foot steady on the lamp post, the other arm and leg stretched out into thin air. “- if you mix a pinch of the powder into a regular pint of butterbeer, it makes you see dead people!”

Peter grinned up at his friend, chest out and trying to suck his stomach in after he noticed that several shoppers had stopped or slowed down to take in James Potter’s superb display of acrobatics. 

James performed an awkward bow for the masses from where he was, then gripped the pole with both hands and slid down noisily. He was panting a little at the exertion and looked as if he had maybe burnt the skin on his palms, but he looked very pleased with himself, especially as a few people laughed and applauded. 

“We’ll get pints at the Leaky, mix it in, and then we’ll be able to see how many people have died in the pub!”

Peter struggled for a second between morbid curiosity and fright, but under the confident gaze of James Potter morbid curiosity would always trump any other emotion. 

“What will the dead people look like? Will they look like ghosts?” Peter asked, preening a little as James clapped him on the back and began steering him towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“Dunno yet, do I? Maybe they’ll look like real people, maybe we won’t be able to tell the live ones from the dead! Mind you, I’ve always had my doubts about Tom the bartender. Surely nobody can grow as old as he? Mum told me he’s owned the Leaky all her life, and my Mum is ancient.”

Peter zoned out momentarily as his eyes hit upon Pippa Philpott, a fellow Gryffindor student. Pippa was a fourth year Gryffindor, and Peter was becoming aware that his mind would invariably wander whenever he caught sight of her. He was rather good at catching sight of her, too, which might have something to do with his rodent alter ego. Rats were good at noticing what was happening around them, after all. 

Pippa was small with delicate hands and with dark hair and eyes and rosy cheeks. She had a secretive smile, and although she rarely laughed outright Peter had noticed that her eyes gave the impression of laughter most all the time. Peter had a sneaking suspicion he was a little bit smitten.

“Watch where you’re going, Wormtail, mate!” James was grinning at him and steadying him; Peter had almost taken a tumble straight into an unnecessarily large display case of live scarabs outside of the Magical Menagerie. 

“Sorry Prongs,” Peter wheezed, but he wasn’t really sorry. No, Peter was elated. They were speaking in secret code, James was using the name that only he, Remus and Sirius knew, the name that signified the Marauder’s greatest secret. Peter beamed; Pippa Philpott momentarily forgotten. 

James bought them both pints of the seasonal butterbeer on tap (cinnamon and cardamom flavoured) and waved away Peter’s half-hearted attempt at offering to pay for his own. James and Sirius always got the others drinks, and Peter thought that was as it should be; they both had money to spare, after all. Remus’s peculiarities sometimes rubbed off on him, though, and Remus was always getting his knickers in a twist about being bought stuff by James or Sirius. Peter supposed it was something to do with his upbringing, or maybe just another case of general Moony neurotics. 

“Cheers,” Peter said gratefully, mind immediately moving away from money and settling on that morbid curiosity he had experienced a first taste of outside. James did come up with the most fascinating ideas. He spotted an empty table before James did, it was something he was quite good at even if he did say so himself. He did have his uses for the other Marauders, nobody could tell anyone otherwise. 

“Show us the stuff, then,” Peter whispered as they were seated at their table with their pints. James wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially and rifled through his robe pockets. 

“Feast your eyes upon this, Wormy,” he whispered back, or at least Peter supposed it was as close to a whisper as James could get. He always made a habit of being the loudest no matter what company he kept, and whispering wasn’t really part of his set of skills, as talented as he otherwise was.

“Merlin’s beard,” Peter whispered, sounding as impressed as he thought was expected of him. The powdered thestral hoof was a murky grey and looked mostly like ash, but it was a rare ingredient, after all, and stolen to boot. Hence, Peter was impressed.

James held the small glass bottle over one of the pints and poured out a knife’s edge’s worth. The butterbeer frothed and turned white. Giggling manically, James repeated the procedure over the other pint glass. 

“Bottom’s up, mate!” he said, voice breaking with excitement and puberty. Peter refrained from laughing and lifted his glass instead. 

“Cheers.”

They both had a drink, Peter watching James carefully to make sure he actually had a sip and didn’t just leave Peter to drink on his own (this had become normal procedure after too many pranks played on him featuring drink and food they were all supposed to partake in, but that somehow Peter ended up being the sole digester of. Who could forget that time James tricked him into eating a purple raspberry spiked with dental squish that turned his teeth into marshmallows? Or the time Sirius had spiked his ale pint with something that made him recite lines from something called the “Communist Manifesto” on repeat until Madam Rosmerta threw them out of the Three Broomsticks? Who would’ve guessed she was into politics, anyway?).

Peter gulped down several mouthfuls after making sure James was doing the same. His eyes began to sting the more he drank, and once it became painful he stopped, blinking furiously and looking around the pub.

“Wicked!” James whispered-shouted, and Peter struggled to focus his eyes. There were odd shapes moving around, but they all seemed to be…

“Horses!” Peter yelped; a bit too loud himself as several patrons turned their heads to look at him. 

There were at least a dozen shimmering and not quite solid shapes of massive, muscular horse moving about, some straight through the tables or even walls, as though they had lived and died there long before the Leaky Cauldron had been erected and furnished.

“C’mere, sweet filly!” James called to the closest one, a small but quite beautiful one that was just a yard away from the boys. “Fancy some butterbeer?” The horse turned its head but then it flickered and disappeared, leaving Peter and James to stare at a muscular young wizard in MLE robes instead. He was decidedly not dead and he stared at James with mingled anger and confusion. 

“I was talking to the horse,” James explained genially as the colour in the other man’s face seemed to suggest he wasn’t going to let this slide. “Wonder when this used to be a stables,” James continued nonchalantly, turning to Peter instead. Peter gave the MLE wizard a last worried look (he was now toying rather menacingly with his wand) and then had a look at his and James’s pints instead. They seemed to be returning to a normal colour, and Peter thought that the horses in the background were becoming less distinct by the minute.

“Dunno. Why do you think we’re only seeing horses?”

“Maybe no wizards or witches have died in here,” James suggested sadly. 

“Or maybe the thestrals only care about their relatives?” Peter said, inwardly thankful that they hadn’t been able to see any dead humans. “They’re related, aren’t they?”

“Bastard sons and daughters of a necrophiliac relationship between a stallion and a Hungarian Horntail,” James said, nodding sagely. Peter had a feeling that if Moony had been here, he would have corrected this statement, but as it were there was no faulting this reasoning. 

“They’re gone, now, I think,” Peter said, blinking again. The wizard in MLE robes was still at the next table over, but he had been joined by a cute witch and they were engaged in some heavy petting. The wizard was still staring angrily at James, though, although there was something akin to triumph in his eyes as well. 

“I’ll go see if I can get us some Firewhisky,” James said eagerly, and he got up before Peter had the chance to reply. Peter did not want to get drunk in public, but fortunately there was no way that Tom the bartender would sell James spirits, so Peter relaxed in his chair and had some more of his half-drunk, possibly still spiked butterbeer. As James passed the wizard and the witch he bent down and Peter could clearly hear him whisper “there’s a pretty horse” to the wizard.


	6. I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Boxer" by Simon & Garfunkel.

Christmas day dawned bright and cold, and Sirius flung his bedroom window open with his elbows to try to get closer to muggle London. The petrol muggle vehicles ran on smelled like perfume to him, and he could hear birds tweeting and people singing in the distance. The ground was covered in frost, rendering the whole world outside his window pale and shimmering. Even the ugly dark houses that ran all around the square looked picturesque and a little magical today.

The Christmas gift he received from his parents consisted of a new edition of “Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy” and a year’s prescription to a magazine Sirius had never heard of. It was called _Pure Magic_ and a quick skim through the first number told him it was just as nauseating as the book, which he was unfortunately very familiar with. He had been instructed to read it so frequently as a child that he thought he could probably still recite at least the first three chapters verbatim. He hadn’t touched it since he’d started Hogwarts and been told in no uncertain terms by James that what he’d been taught about the importance of blood was all lies and propaganda, although he had almost had to touch the book again when he set fire to the copy in their library some Christmases ago. He’d had the soles of his feet burnt off in retaliation by his father, and that Christmas had been a stationary one as his wand had been taken away then, too. Sirius wondered unhappily when he could expect his wand back this time. If he couldn’t get it he’d have to try and steal Regulus’s to get his hands healed, and maybe he could sneak out in the night; the muggle East End of London was dirty and scary and exactly the sort of place Sirius got his kicks out of visiting. Last summer he had even made it into a gritty old wizarding bar housed in a cellar somewhere around Mile End, but he had never been able to find it again even though it had been very liberal with serving minors. He really needed to find it again. 

Sirius hadn’t left the house since the first night of the Christmas holidays. The next day grandfather Arcturus had arrived, and his keeping odd hours had put a stop to any more night-time activities on Sirius’s part. He was itching to get out and see normal people now, though. 

“And here is our own mudblood-lover. Think you can behave yourself today, or will you make an embarrassing spectacle of yourself as usual?” 

Walburga was already finished with breakfast, but she stopped dramatically in the middle of the dining room as he entered. She was wearing such a dark green robe that it almost looked black and there was a trim of lace at the cuffs and around her cleavage. She was wearing a new necklace of grey pearls and grey diamonds, and although she was getting on in years she looked radiant. She had always been inordinately beautiful; Sirius knew he had his looks from her (Regulus in turn resembled their father) but it was never nice to be reminded of how breath-taking she was. When angry she wasn’t half as beautiful, but superior and calm and arrogant like today she was something to behold. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said with mock-politeness, pulling himself up to his full height. He was taller than both his parents now, which gave him some little satisfaction when they otherwise had all the power. Regulus, currently sitting at the breakfast table, was still small for his age, and Sirius had a feeling that his brother would most likely grow to be the height of their father and no more. How tall Sirius would get was still uncertain. As he had surpassed everyone already it seemed to be yet another thing that was his, and only his; another instance of his non-conformity. 

“Yes, I’m pleased you like our gift. Your father and I thought that you would find it useful to repeat some of the finer points presented in that book. I remember it used to be a favourite of yours, growing up.”

“It wasn’t,” interjected Sirius and started buttering some toast.

“Your memory has never been as good as we had hoped. It’s a shame, really, but at least Regulus has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Curious how my marks are better, isn’t it?” asked Sirius and reached over his brother to get the marmalade. Regulus was smiling at their mother and she was smiling right back at him, even though she was still speaking to Sirius. 

“We all feel a bit sorry for you, and I’m sure your Professors do, too. They make allowances concerning your marks, I expect. They can tell you’re troubled and a little soft in the head. They know it happens even in the best of families, although of course the Blacks have not been plagued by any feeblemindedness for generations until you came along. You’re also forgetting that Regulus is on the Quidditch team, and he is rather the socialite if I’m not mistaken. Mingling with the right crowd takes brains and time, but of course you wouldn’t know the first thing about that.”

Mother and favourite son smiled at one another and Sirius tried to eat his toast as well as he could. His hands throbbed and the toast crumbs itched horribly on his fingers, and as usual he had to fight to keep his temper in check. His mother walked over and gave Regulus a fond kiss on his head, then she turned gracefully and exited the way a great prima donna would her stage. Sirius could feel Regulus look at him, probably with a smug smile on his face, but neither brother spoke to the other. Sirius poured himself some more tea when he was done and took it with him upstairs. 

Three owls bearing gifts arrived in quick succession for him. Remus had given him some scruffy muggle sunglasses, which he loved, and Peter had sent him a muggle comic book that didn’t look half bad. James had sent him a porn mag, a tissue and some Vaseline, which Sirius found hilarious, especially since it came in the same package as a lovely and expensive-looking plum scarf and cheerful carol-singing card from James’s parents. Sirius spent a mostly enjoyable day in his room with the new comics and some old motorbike manuals, flipping pages as well as he could with the aid of his mouth and with a soft pillow underneath his belly where the other curse his father had used on him had left him sore. 

He was still trying to understand exactly how the ignition in motorbikes worked. He would really need the real thing to tinker with soon. He wondered vaguely what charms he might put on the bike to make it run easier. Functioning brakes could surely be swapped for a good strong braking charm and all the oil and petrol that constantly needed to be refilled seemed like a bit of a waste (although petrol did smell heavenly, maybe that’s why muggles used it so much). 

He was given back his wand just before dinner was about to start. His father came into his room as he dressed in the black velvet robes Kreacher had brought him, and he was told he would be allowed to use it again after dinner. His father put it on his desk and stayed there until he was done dressing, making sure he didn’t pick up the wand and heal his hands before they went down to eat. It was cruel beyond belief to have his cure and his salvation right there in his room, unable to use it. Then again, Sirius didn’t know the counter curse for whatever it was his father had used, and as his father relied almost solely on non-verbal magic there wasn’t even an incantation he could go and look up in the library to learn what the curse and potential counter-curse was. He would have to work harder than that to undo the damage. But first, there was an awful family dinner to get through.

His cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa were there with their respective boyfriends, they all sneered over his head and refused to speak directly to him. Bellatrix spent most of her time talking to people close to where Sirius was standing, slipping in insults directed at him to gaud him into speaking. Not that the rest of his extended family were much better; they all joined in with Bellatrix’s little game, agreeing with her assessment on mudbloods and muggles, lamenting the fragile mental capacity of any Black who wasn’t sorted into Slytherin, even making fun of the traitorous and lowly Potter family, which Bellatrix would have found beneath her scope of interest had she not known Sirius’s best friend to be James. 

The whole dinner passed in much the same fashion with nobody speaking directly to Sirius. Bellatrix used a silencing charm on him whenever he opened his mouth to try to launch into an ill-advised defence of himself or the whole of muggle Britain, leaving him red in the face and with his mouth opening and closing futilely. Grandma Irma in particular seemed to find it hilarious, and Orion was clearly enjoying himself immensely, even going as far as to clap Bellatrix on her back in approval of this new game. Before they had always let him speak, even though he was interrupted and put in his place without fail, but at least he had been allowed to try to make his case. 

Bellatrix was ridiculously fast with her wand, and he never got out more than half a word throughout dinner. She didn’t focus very much on the conversations around her, no more than occasionally getting in a comment about how lucky Orion and Walburga were to have a second son, with brains, who could make their parents proud. She was openly laughing at his red and angry face by the time the burning Christmas pudding made its way to the table. She had spotted his flayed hands by now and wiggled her fingers teasingly at him. Sirius could tell that everyone else was growing tired of Bellatrix’s antics and no longer paying much attention to what she did. Everyone except for uncle Alphard, who, although quiet, had never been nasty to Sirius despite his sorting. At least not to his face. Regulus also looked on curiously, Sirius supposed that as they were seated next to each other and opposite Bellatrix it was rather difficult to completely ignore them. Bellatrix stopped waving at him in favour of slowly and lecherously putting her middle finger into her mouth and sucking on it. Her eyes were nothing but malicious as she explored this new tactic of upsetting him. Sirius tried to not let show the nausea and panic that was rising within him, tried to remain angry, as anger was something he felt much safer dealing with. He had to look away, though, and instead caught sight of Regulus’s confused face. He was watching Bellatrix’s pornographic tonguing of her finger, and Sirius hoped desperately that he wouldn’t ask Bellatrix what she was doing. Regulus was oddly innocent, still, and even though Sirius rarely spoke to him nowadays he remembered that Regulus had never found girls and sex as interesting as he had, probably hadn’t done much exploring in that field yet. New waves of anger rose in Sirius at the thought of what Bellatrix might do to his little brother, but it also came as a relief for Sirius because with anger he felt more like himself again. He needed to keep Bellatrix’s attention on himself and make sure she didn’t sink her claws into Regulus.

Walburga had stood up to make a speech, but Sirius wasn’t listening. He was now miming swearwords and insults at Bellatrix, using his hands to further illustrate what he meant as there was no point trying to hide his injuries from her anymore. She had him at her mercy, and the only thing left to him was to bite back the pain that came from moving his hands and try to upset her with foul sign language. He also liked that uncle Alphard was watching; he had been for quite some time and he hadn’t made any attempts to stop Sirius. Bellatrix was still enjoying herself, he thought, and he tried to come up with something vile enough to ruffle her feathers. So deep in his mime and enunciation was he, that he didn’t spot the subtle flick of her wand.

“- SAWING ARMS OFF THE BODIES OF DEAD RELATIVES SO THAT YOU CAN FIST YOUR DISEASED CUNT –“ Sirius fell quiet as he realized he had shouted this at full volume, right over his mother’s Christmas speech. She had stopped talking, goblet raised high as if he had interrupted her mid-toast. 

Orion got up swiftly from the other end of the table, and before Sirius knew it he was being dragged out of his chair by the scruff of his neck. Suddenly the fact that he was growing taller and bigger than his father didn’t seem to matter much. The whole table was quiet, save for Bellatrix who was failing in her attempts to stifle her laughter, and every single pair of eyes followed Sirius as he was dragged towards the other end of the room. Orion pushed him up against the wall next to an old painting of a dead ancestor of theirs and then, for once, he didn’t stop to get his wand. His fist connected three times with different parts of Sirius’s face, each time felt like he must have put his whole body into the strike. When the last one connected with Sirius’s nose there was an obscene crunch of splintering bones and blood splattered the wall beside Sirius’s face. The inhabitant of the painting gasped in shock.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, Orion released him and left him scrambling for purchase, trying to stay upright through the pain and dizziness. He heard Orion mutter a healing-spell underneath his breath, but apparently it wasn’t for Sirius but for his father’s knuckles. Then confident footsteps and a stilted reignition of conversation at the table told Sirius that his father had made his way back to the Christmas table. Bellatrix’s giggles could still be heard over the conversation. 

Once he had regained his vision, Sirius moved gingerly towards the door. He thought he could hear his mother shout “stay in your room!” after him, but blood was pounding loudly at his temples and out of what was left of his nose and it might have been his imagination. His footsteps got steadier and he made his way upstairs fast. His room was as he had left it, window still wide open and his blessed wand was lying on the desk. Instead of sneaking into the library to look up a good healing spell, he threw his things into his school trunk in a haphazard mess, closed it with some difficulty and charmed it to weigh less. He could barely feel the pain in his hands or his broken face, his body seemed to be pumping adrenalin around like never before. 

Inspiration struck through the fog of barely contained rage and he broke into Regulus’s room to dump the porn mag and the Vaseline James had sent him. The book his parents had given him he simply set on fire, although it didn’t work very well and merely blackened it a little around the edges. 

His broom was not a new one like Regulus’s, but it was a high-quality one. With some difficulty he got it to hover outside of his window while he threaded the trunk’s handles around the broomstick. Then he climbed onto the windowsill, wand securely between his teeth, and got on behind the dangling trunk. He had only gotten the hang of disillusionment spells this year, it was a NEWT-level spell after all, but it was lucky that he had. The broom didn’t quite take to the charm, but his body and the trunk became indistinguishable from the generic cityscape around him. 

He took a last look at his room, theatrically tossing his head, which hurt a lot and made blood pour into his mouth, and then he left Grimmauld Place behind - he was heading for the West Country. Hopefully he’d be able to recognize the Potters’ house from a bird’s eye perspective.

It took a lot longer than he’d anticipated, which left him plenty of time to consider his actions. James had told him several times through the years he should just move in, and Sirius knew he meant it. James’s parents were absolute sweethearts as well, but they were old, and he’d only ever made polite conversation with them. Mostly just with Euphemia, as it were, Fleamont was rather an odd egg. 

Sirius didn’t see how he could have stayed. This had gone past what he could tolerate, what was there to stop Orion from hurting him permanently after this? His father knew hexes and curses he didn’t know the first thing about defending himself against. This wasn’t like fighting Snivellus or Mulciber or any of the nasty, mean Slytherins in seventh year who were unscrupulous whenever they thought they could get away with hurting Gryffindors. This was a grown wizard who had gone from ignoring him to despising him to hating him and who had him in his power if he stayed. He’d be 17 in a years’ time, at which point he could at least do magic whenever it pleased him. He had no money of his own, though, two and a half years left at Hogwarts and it would be difficult to survive alone during the holidays. 

No, it had to be James’s house. 

When he landed in the middle of the Potter’s snowclad garden he remembered his bloodied face again (it was pleasantly frozen and crusted-over from the icy wind and merely throbbing now) and he (not for the first time) cursed his own dramatic streak. He should have tried to heal himself and clean it up before leaving, he must look a right embarrassing mess. But his nose was in bad shape, and he wasn’t sure if he was good enough to reset it properly, never mind healing the skin. He had had a nice straight nose, as it were, and he’d preferably have it healed by someone who knew what they were doing. 

He undid the disillusionment charm with some reluctance.

“Sirius!” James had come out on the porch, followed by his elderly father who was supporting himself on a cane. Both were squinting through their glasses at him, as if wondering if they were seeing correctly. 

“I’ve ran away,” said Sirius, face hurting as he suddenly had to move it to speak and trying to sound more confident and upbeat than he was. This was the moment of truth. 

“Blimey, mate. Come in from the cold. What’ve they done to your face?” Sirius unsteadily led the broom with his trunk towards the porch, dreading what the reactions would be once he was underneath the light and they could see him properly. He didn’t feel much like a brave hero on the stage anymore. 

He was met with two near-identical faces of horror as he stepped in under the light, and James eased the broom out of his hands and led the way inside immediately. 

“It will be nice for James to have you here,” said Fleamont vaguely, but he looked a little frightened at the prospect, or perhaps it was just Sirius’s appearance. He clapped Sirius gingerly on the shoulder, which Sirius supposed was as much as he could hope for. Euphemia entered the hallway just then, and Sirius could hear James’s dad sigh in relief before he sneaked upstairs, helped by his cane, probably set for his study and potion’s laboratory. He had always given Sirius the impression of someone who only had a rudimentary knowledge of how to interact with other humans. 

“Mum, Sirius is moving in with us,” James said, and Sirius was immediately drawn into a tight hug by Euphemia. Her hands stroked him gently and firmly over his back, her warmth and her scent overpowering everything else, and the hug combined with James’s words finally let Sirius relax a little. 

“Let’s get you into the kitchen and we’ll clean you up, dear. Has your father done this to you?”

Sirius nodded mutely, quenching down different emotions he wasn’t sure he knew how to interpret. His mouth tasted metallic and he kept swallowing, hoping that everything in his head would calm down. Everything was good now, so why was he still feeling weird? 

James left the broom and the trunk by the stairs and followed them to the kitchen. He was wearing a ridiculous Christmas jumper with a cartoonish reindeer on it, jumping around and showing off its brightly shining nose. Sirius grinned despite himself, and it made James grin back with visible relief. 

“Oh no, look at your poor hands,” muttered Euphemia, who was digging through her light red robes for her wand. Sirius noticed there was blood on her dress now, and he immediately felt guilty. He looked down to see how his palms had fared gripping a frozen broomstick for three hours straight. Not well, as it turned out, they were a bloodied mess of raw meat and bunched up skin. 

“It was a flaying curse,” said Sirius, rather feeling like he was stating the obvious, “my dad took my wand yesterday and now that I’ve got it back, I realized I didn’t know the counter-curse.”

“That looks horrific, mate,” said James conversationally, seating himself beside Sirius and looking at his palms with morbid fascination. 

Euphemia had found her wand and, after disinfecting his hands, she muttered several different incantations under her breath, pointing experimentally at his hands. The third one worked, and the three of them watched as film after film of skin rolled out over Sirius’s palms. He wiggled his fingers curiously once the new layers of skin seemed to have settled, and found that they were as good as new, if a little tender. Euphemia took hold of his face next and cleaned up the blood. 

“How did this happen, then?” she asked, a note of anger seeping through the otherwise even tone. 

“Just his fist,” said Sirius reluctantly, feeling silly about how much damage his father had managed to do even without magic. “Can you fix my nose back to how it was?”

Euphemia huffed at that, much as if he’d asked a six-year-old if it could write its name. There were three measured flicks of her wand, and Sirius felt his nose and his left cheekbone mould themselves back into place, almost all the pain lifting simple as that.

“Take off your robes,” she told him next, and he stared in confusion.

“What? Why? He didn’t do anything else, I’m fine now.”

She gave him an appraising look, then shook her head decisively. “Humour me.”

Sirius got up from the table unwillingly, but even as he pulled off his robes he remembered how his stomach had been hit by that unknown hex of his father’s the previous day. The pain had been much more acute in other places but now that his hands and face were good again, he could feel a dull throbbing on his side. Euphemia gave him a superior but still compassionate look as his torso was bared to them. The bruise covered most of his stomach and turned a vibrant purple of broken blood vessels on the right side of his ribcage. It took a few attempts until Euphemia found a spell that made any difference, and even then it was only partially effective. 

“I’ll root through our cupboards, I’m sure I’ve got a bottle of dittany somewhere. Is there anything else I need to know about, Sirius? What else did they do to you?”

“Nothing,” said Sirius, pulling his dressrobes to his chest for warmth. He didn’t want to put the robes on anymore, they weren’t robes he would ever have picked out for himself. His trunk had some of his mad muggle clothes in it, and his Hogwarts robes of course. 

“We’ll talk more about it when you’ve settled in. The guest room next to James’s is made up, why don’t you take that? We’ll have some food and something warm to drink when you come back down, boys.”

“Thank you,” Sirius told her, he was trying to sound sincere, but he thought it came out sounding a bit stale and too polite. He’d have to work on that. James threw his arm around him with a gleeful shout, and they charmed the trunk to fly up in front of them, erratic steering meaning it banged into the walls on several occasions before it crashed through the door of the guest room.


	7. There were no good old days; these are the good old days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Good Old Days" by The Libertines.

It was the best thing that could have happened, James thought, as the boys competed to get up the stairs first, both trying to steer Sirius’s trunk as they levitated it together. The trunk hit the wall more than what was probably good for the wallpaper, and one or two Christmas ornaments on the little table next to the stairs were sacrificed to the cause as well. Sirius’s new room was the second door, and with some terrific war-cries they let the trunk smash into the door. It burst open and they stumbled in, James first and Sirius second. 

The room had white wooden walls and furniture and the upholstery and curtains were a navy blue. It was quite a beautiful and feminine room, but they could sort that out later. The room was cold as it wasn’t used much, and the two boys piled on top of each other on the bed, cushions flying everywhere. It was fun to wrestle with Sirius again now that James was catching up in height and size; during the last half of fourth year there had been more disparity between them than ever before. Sirius was still bigger, but not by much and James was more into strength exercising than his best friend. He got the upper hand easily, although to be fair it might have been because of the injury on Sirius’s stomach. They swore in sync when they both remembered, and Sirius clutched gingerly at his side.

“How often does he hurt you? Did, I mean?” James decided to ask, because he was of the opinion that Sirius should talk about it even if it wasn’t a nice subject matter. He pulled the duvet around them and he could feel Sirius kick at his shoes to get them off.

“Not that often, really. Usually just shuts me into my room if I say things he doesn’t like. The hexing’s reserved for when I smoke or shag or desecrate their possessions.” Sirius pulled his now bare feet properly into the bed and they burrowed into the blankets and cushions, side by side. James could smell sweat and blood on his friend still, even after the cleaning spell his mother had used. 

“Your mum too?” 

Sirius shivered as if whatever his mother did was somehow more horrific than leaving him with deep-tissue bruising or beating his face to a pulp. James had a feeling Mrs Black was more into breaking down her enemies psychologically. To be fair, Sirius would have been excellent at psychological torture too if he’d ever decided to give it a go.

“What’d you do to upset your dad this time, then? Snog a muggle in front of him?”

“Well, it started yesterday. Apparently, McGonagall got in touch with him about me and Paulina.”

“Greenhouse number three?” asked James with a knowing grin. His best mate and Paulina Cunningham had gone at it against the glass walls of the greenhouse. The sixth years coming back from Care for Magical Creatures, along with Professor Kettleburn, McGonagall and of course James and Peter had all happened on them in action. Paulina had had a skirt and bra on, and her chest had looked fantastic pressed against the glass. Sirius had been completely naked, though, and as McGonagall threw the doors to the Greenhouse open everyone watching had been able to glimpse all of him until their Head of House conjured up a tartan dressing gown for him to wear. “McGonagall is just worried about the free advertisement she inadvertently gave you, she probably thought she was shaming you by letting everybody see,” James told him reasonably.

“So she thought I’d stop shagging my way through the student population if she wrote to my father?” Sirius asked with a grin. He was trying to look pleased with himself, but there was still something hollow in his eyes. James needed to remove whatever it was.

“She’s right to be worried, you should’ve heard the swooning going on outside the Greenhouses when she opened that door and showcased your prick to the school. You’ll get plenty more after Christmas, and then you’ll break their hearts by being your usual insensitive git self. She was trying to protect them from that, probably didn’t think your arsehole parents would hurt you.”

“I’m not blaming her for this,” said Sirius quickly, “you should have heard my father going on and on about how muggles are animals, and suggesting I’m one too for not controlling my urges or whatever, and how anyone would have to be practically brain-dead to sleep with me.”

“What a bellend,” muttered James angrily.

“Yeah, right? That’s why he used the curse on my stomach and the one on my hands. To make sure I couldn’t touch anything I shouldn’t, or some such rubbish. Christmas dinner was a right joy with these hands, as you can imagine.”

“Wanker.”

“Yeah. Bellatrix was at the Christmas dinner, my cousin, you know, the unhinged one. She was taunting me throughout dinner, and I shouted something stupid, and then my father dragged me off the table and beat me up in front of everyone. I went up to my room after that, packed my things without telling them and left. They might not even know I’m gone, yet.” 

“I’m glad you’re staying,” James told him and hugged him closer. Sirius had always been a bit weird about hugging, either hugging too much and at weird times or shying away from hugs completely. But today everything felt good and he hugged James right back. 

“Boys, there’s hot cocoa in the kitchen!”

They wrestled again to get off the bed, Sirius managing to push James off the bed completely although James made sure to trip him up when he tried to run past to his trunk to get out some fresh clothes. They descended into the kitchen still falling over one another, Sirius now in a ridiculous glittery top that was too much even for Christmas. 

“Thanks ever so much for the scarf, by the way, I absolutely adore it,” Sirius told James’s mum as she handed them a mug each. 

“I’m glad, I thought it might suit you,” Euphemia told him with a wry smile. 

“My parents find muggle clothes distasteful,” Sirius told her as an explanation for his awful top, although he didn’t sound the least bit embarrassed about how ugly it was. 

“Have you eaten today, Sirius?”

“Yes, big Christmas dinner and all that rot.” 

James’s mother put a bowl of oranges on the table anyway, along with some mince pies. James had several even though he had thought he was completely full. Sirius was making polite conversation with James’s mother, sounding unbearably posh as he did, and James couldn’t quite contain an evil grin as it dawned on him that Sirius was nervous, of all things. 

“No need to sound like you have a broomstick up your bum, you know,” James interrupted him once he’d had enough. James’s mother shot him an angry look as if to say that Sirius had been through enough for one night. Sirius grinned apologetically at Euphemia and smashed a mince pie into James’s mouth. The joke was on him, though, as James managed to open his mouth before impact and most of the pie ended up in his mouth.

“I’ll have my work cut out for me with the two of you,” James’s mum muttered in an accurate assessment of the situation.

James force-fed Sirius a few sections of orange, and then had to duck as his best mate pretended to spit them back out into James’s face. Fortunately, he showed the bare minimum of decorum, presumably because of Euphemia’s presence, and he ate the orange instead. James smiled complacently but he secretly armed himself with an extra mince pie in his pocket. Sirius’s top really was hideous and if he wasn’t careful he’d end up with a smashed pie underneath it.

They withdrew from the kitchen before a full-scale food fight had a chance to develop, although, as James would find out in the morning when he woke up with a pie in his hair, Sirius too had stocked up on ammunition.


	8. Suddenly I see this is what I wanna be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall.

The boys didn’t rise until noon, but after ravaging some tea and toast and having been promised lunch in an hour, the two of them soared through the front door and had drawn battle lines in the snow in no time. Magic was a great help when it came to building defensive snow walls and small fortresses, and they had the garden in complete disarray in no time. 

Poor Peter somehow arrived in the middle of it, and he got pelted both by James, who was standing on the top of an ice tower that was mostly kept together by magic, and by Sirius, who had dug an igloo (or a glorified den, as James told him later), and was completely hidden from sight. Sirius felt proud to say that he was mainly responsible for the snowballs that hit Peter’s head. 

“You’re in the papers, Sirius!” Peter wheezed after he had ridden his face sufficiently of snow to be able to see and to move his mouth. “Is it true you’ve run away?”

“How come it’s in the papers?” James stared from one to the other with wide eyes beneath his frosted-over glasses.

“Bloody aunt Druella,” Sirius said angrily. He had mostly managed to not dwell on the events of yesterday, but now a combined feeling of nausea and panic hit him much like the snowballs had Peter’s face. He blinked a few times to clear his head, trying to find the initial rage and get rid of the other feelings. James was holding onto his arm, he realized after a bit, and Peter was prattling on as usual, hopefully oblivious to Sirius.

“She's a right scandal-loving old cow. She was a Rosier, married my mum’s brother,” Sirius clarified for James, cutting across whatever Peter was telling them. “She was the one who sold the story of old man Fawcett’s infidelity and relationship with the hippogriff wrangler. Pretty sure she’s the one who started the rumour that the youngest Greengrass boy was a squib, too. Proven wrong in the end, but I imagine it wasn’t fun for them at the time.”

“What’s she told them, then? That they beat you to a pulp and took away your wand so that you couldn’t defend yourself?” James sounded angry now and Peter’s eyes got very big at the revelation, suggesting that it perhaps wasn’t what was in the papers. It made Sirius feel calmer, though, and he gave Peter a superior look that made the smaller boy twitch.

“Something about you getting brainwashed in school, and it's made you turn against your own flesh and blood. But they’ve interviewed other people, too, who say the school is better than ever under Dumbledore and that nowadays not all purebloods want anything to do with the purist movement.”

Sirius stuck his hands into the pockets of the large winter coat of Fleamont's Euphemia had lent him. Euphemia had sounded a bit too excited last night when she’d promised to take him shopping as soon as everything opened again after Christmas. He had a feeling he was in for a complete make-over, he had seen the way Euphemia had eyed his orange velour flairs. She had also taken to casually mentioning his 'delightful bone structure'

“Sounds like it could have been worse,” James said tentatively. 

“Boys, lunch is on the table. Would you like some too, Peter?”

“Yes please, Euphemia!”

Sirius let James throw his arm around him and lead him up to the house. He thought Peter may have started talking again, but he wasn’t listening. They dumped their wet clothes and boots by the doormat, as none of them had their wands handy. Sirius wasn’t sure Peter would’ve been able to perform the right warming charm to dry their clothes, either, he would probably have set the lot on fire. 

Peter nipped to the loo to clean his face and hands (Sirius scoffed at that, what was a little snow on the skin?) and he and James found Euphemia standing by the kitchen table, the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_ spread open on it. James went to her side to read over her shoulder, and without even thinking Sirius went to stand by her other side to do the same. She threw an arm around each of them, and somehow it didn’t feel as suffocating as it should have. Sirius tried to read, but he quickly lost that thread of thought and just skimmed the text as various words and phrases surfaced and got lodged in his head. “Family convinced he was led astray by unruly friends”, “badly behaved and rebellious at home”, “can Hogwarts be blamed?”, “Dumbledore is just as celebrated as he is hated”, “purist movement is by some considered the salvation of wizardkind”, “children are easily brainwashed”, “muggle culture is experiencing a revival in popularity amongst younger witches and wizards”.

“At least they found a good picture of you,” Euphemia said thoughtfully. Sirius head snapped up and he realized both James and his mum were watching him, likely gauging his reaction to what they had all read. Sirius gave her a superior smile and then had a look at the picture himself. It was one from the summer engagement party of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Sirius had been quite drunk at said event (it had been a must for obvious reasons) and he could not remember having his picture taken, but there it was. He did look good in it, but then he usually did.

“You’re completely pissed in that picture, aren’t you?” James asked and Sirius gave Euphemia a cautionary glance before he replied. She was shaking her head at them both, but she also looked as if there was barely suppressed laughter both behind her eyes and in the corners of her mouth.

“Can’t even remember it being taken,” Sirius divulged and shot Euphemia a roguish grin.

“I can tell, just from your face”, James said. He sounded borderline proud that they knew each other so well. Sirius quite agreed, too. 

“None of that under this roof, you hear me?” Euphemia said, although she sounded as if she was all but certain her request would be ignored. 

“Never,” James lied without finesse and kissed her cheek. Sirius didn’t say anything.

“I’m starving!” Peter’s voice came from behind them, and Sirius struggled underneath Euphemia’s arm to be able to turn around. Peter was wringing his hands nervously and he had plastered an infuriatingly ingratiating smile onto his face. Sirius told him as much, and to his surprise he was immediately told off by James’s mum. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to be ‘uncharitable’ to his friends, whatever that meant. 

“I’ve had a letter from Remus,” Peter told them as they were all seated and eating left-over, slightly dry turkey, stuffing, and excellent cranberry jam on store-bought bread. There were brussel sprouts on the table, too, but nobody had made any attempt to touch them. “I tried to ask him about voodoo and zombies, but he doesn’t seem to think that’s a big thing on Madagascar.”

“Disappointing,” James said with his mouth full of food, his appetite really was out of control Sirius thought. 

“You eat like a pig,” Sirius said, one eye on Euphemia to see if she might chastise him for this, too. She nodded in agreement, however, especially as James opened his mouth wide, leaning towards Sirius, and showcasing the half-chewed plentiful mush on the inside. 

“He reckons he’s gained 450 new freckles on his body, though, so there is that,” Peter continued. “This is great, Euphemia,” he continued dutifully, although in all honesty Sirius thought ‘great’ was an overstatement. They all knew Euphemia’s cooking was completely hit-and-miss, she even admitted that herself. 

Something misty came over James’s eyes at the mention of freckles, and as his mouth, which had stopped moving, was still open, Sirius took the opportunity to pick up a moist cranberry and fling it at James’s face. It hit his glasses, and in all honesty Sirius hadn’t really been aiming for his gaping mouth. It was more fun this way.

“Stop daydreaming about Evans, or I’ll throw my whole sandwich at you,” Sirius said, and he tried to make it sound like a threat. James had taken off his glasses and was now doing a thorough job of licking the cranberry away. He looked really odd and borderline ugly without his glasses (not really), but before Sirius had the time to tell him that Euphemia had pounced on the name.

“Still hankering after Lily Evans, are you James?” she asked sweetly. James looked very cross indeed as he put his glasses back on.

“We’re helping him to write sonnets about her, right now, Mrs Potter,” Sirius said surreptitiously. “Trying to come up with something that would rhyme with freckled bosom, any ideas?”

“That girl will have way too much self-respect to fall for something the three of you can come up with,” Euphemia said sternly, “and I will not have anyone objectified in my kitchen, Sirius. Doesn’t matter how attractive her freckles are.”

“Pardon,” Sirius said quickly, realizing too late that his choice of word made the others laugh. 

“You need to stop talking like a posh wanker in front of my Mum,” James said, and instead of telling her son off for his use of language Euphemia nodded in agreement. Peter sniggered at him.

Sirius’s normal urge to keep either cool and arrogant or to lash out and hurt was quelled almost instantly, just like that, and he smiled carefully instead and leaned back in his chair, tipping it back and balancing on its back legs. Life at the Potters’ was good.


	9. You and I together hand in hand we run away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Going to Pasalaqua" by Green Day.

Peter was sitting at the desk in his attic bedroom, trying to drown out the agitated voices from downstairs. Something wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t want to ask his Mum about it. Why couldn’t she just be happy, she had always wanted a new man and now she had one? A nice one at that, Peter thought, as he eyed the carton of fags on his desk. Rollo must’ve left them there for him, and Peter had begun having a smoke after supper and sometimes just before bed as well. It made him feel like a real grown-up, and he had nothing short of adored Sirius’s shocked expression as he lit one up in James’s back yard when he was there last. 

Sirius was so lucky it was infuriating. Not only was he cool and effortlessly good at everything, not only was he James’s best friend, but now he was living at the Potters’ as well. It was rather unfair, since what wouldn’t Peter have given to move in there, too? The Potters’ were the best.

Peter had read the story in the paper about Sirius with some interest, and his mother had shown him the latest _Witch Weekly_ , which had featured a similar article as well. Drama followed Sirius wherever he went, and of course he couldn’t leave his stuffy and apparently violent family quietly, he had to do it with a bang loud enough even the papers saw fit to plaster his face all over their pages. It would make things interesting when they all got back to Hogwarts, though, Peter supposed lots of students read the papers and they would be bound to recognize Sirius’s face and name. Moving around the school with Sirius might make people notice Peter, too, and for something other than their pranks this time around. 

Peter sighed and clasped his hands over his belly. His mind had followed a familiar path and he was now picturing Pippa Philpott, with her smile and her dark eyes and all that creamy pale skin… 

Maybe she would notice Sirius and the people he hung out with, too? Maybe she would look at them, the four of them, intrigued by how one of them had made the papers. She would think Sirius was too much, though, and she'd be right to think that. Nobody normal ever wound up in the papers. Not a chance. He might be good looking, but it was well known how much he slept around and how many fights he started, surely Pippa would have no interest in such a boy. No, she would look at who he was with.

James was perfect, of course, but Peter hoped he was too popular for someone like Pippa. She was a year younger than them, after all, and she didn’t hang out with the quidditch players. So she wasn’t likely to get her eyes set on him. Besides, everyone knew that James only had eyes for Lily Evans and that he would never consider anyone else. He’d stopped trying to ask her out in their first year, but that didn’t stop him from staring longingly at her whenever she was nearby. It was public knowledge. (Personally, Peter had never understood why Lily didn’t want James. Surely James was the best any girl could hope for? But alas, Lily seemed to be strangely immune to what Peter thought should be obvious. But James would persevere, and Peter admire him even more for it.) 

Pippa would look at the last two in the group. Peter felt more worried about Remus as a potential rival than he did about the other two, he couldn’t lie about that. Remus was kind and sweet and witches seemed to like him much better than wizards, in general. He could in no way be construed as a threat to a woman, Peter supposed, or imagined to be violent or nasty. (Oh if the rest of the school only knew.) But Moony was shy, so very shy around everyone he hadn’t had at least a hundred deep conversations with. He was neurotic and constantly second-guessing people he didn’t know (maybe the people he knew, too, although he never said) and even if Pippa were to give one of her stunning smiles to Remus, he would never in a million years understand that it was meant for him. No, Moony wasn’t a real threat, here. 

She’d be bound to see the fourth and last member of the famous Marauders. Peter. She’d see Peter. And what then? 

Peter sighed heavily and a little desperately. He had no idea what to do if she were to look his way, if she were to meet his eye, maybe spot him across the Charms corridor or sit down next to him on the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room. 

Peter lit a cigarette with fumbling hands, almost burning his thumb in the process. How was he supposed to woo Pippa? What did he have to offer her? Peter had no idea what to do.


	10. This is the life and you wake up in the morning, and your head feels twice the size

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Amy Macdonald's "This is the Life".

They walked on their tiptoes past James’s parent’s bedroom and slid downstairs on the banister, which James was convinced made less noise than walking on the steps did. They landed, one after the other, with silent thumps on the heavy carpet in the hallway. James led the way to the locked liquor cabinet in the dining room, which took one nonchalant wave of James’s wand to open. He could see Sirius grinning excitedly and a little bit proudly through the dim light from the stars and the waxing moon that shone through the window. Sirius picked a bottle with clear liquid with foreign letters on it, which the boys suspected to be muggle vodka. Together they managed to pour the liquid into a different bottle that had previously contained pumpkin juice, then Sirius filled the vodka bottle with water. 

Pleased with their own brilliance they put the bottle with the water back in the cabinet and took the pumpkin juice bottle out with them. 

Alton Pancras was a village with a small school, two rival pubs, a handful of shops and a church; all muggle. The only other wizards in the village were two unmarried Weasley brothers, who James’s mum always talked fondly of as being ‘delightfully eccentric’. As James’s dad was possibly the most eccentric man to be born this side of the channel since Dumbledore, James didn’t put much stock in that observation. The Weasleys were outdoorsy types of middle age, red hair balding on both heads, and they came to tea a few times a year and spoke almost exclusively of quidditch on these visits. As they, for some reason, weren’t Puddlemere United fans like James (it was the local team, for Merlin’s sake!) but supported the Chudley Cannons, James had never spoken to them at length, merely exchanging some mostly good-natured ribbing of the other’s unfortunate choice of team. 

Other than the Weasleys there were only muggles in Alton Pancras. The few young people James’s age were kids he had lost touch with once he started Hogwarts. 

The icy, mostly cobbled streets were deserted at one in the morning, the pubs had closed some time ago and there was nothing else in the town that would lure people out at night. Except, James and Sirius discovered, a fascinating children’s playground behind the muggle school. 

They sat on a snow-covered bench at first, trying to drink the appalling spirit they had liberated from James’s parents liquor cabinet. They were competitive about a lot of things, and who could drink more, faster and without grimacing were a few of those things. James declared victory in all categories quite soon, there was something about Sirius’s inner drama queen that did not let him drink the strong stuff without pulling ridiculous faces. They did both soldier on, and soon they were laughing and falling about on their bench, the vodka suddenly not so hard on their throats. The night should still have been freezing, but soon that wasn’t something they noticed. 

Bile started rising in James’s throat already on the seesaw, and by the time they were using the slide he was sure that it would only be a matter of time before they’d both be vomiting. Sirius, the absolute madman, was sliding down face first on his stomach, and so James had to do the same. Having the ice-like metal of the slide press into his belly was extremely unpleasant, but James had to admit that it was exhilarating to get that rush of air and adrenalin when his body gained speed. Hitting his chin in the icy snow below was less fun, but he had quite forgotten that he had hands and arms and could potentially have used them to catch himself on impact. 

He thought both he and Sirius may have gotten their tongues stuck on the metal slide, but reasons as to why they would have attempted to lick the slide in the first place escaped him, so maybe that never happened? James's tongue sure did feel funny, though.

Some time later James found himself on his back on the snowy ground, feeling rather wet but not sure if that was sweat or melting snow. Sirius was sitting beside him, cradling the bottle, which had very little content left. Sirius was awfully drunk, James could tell, and he would have to take care of his irresponsible friend for the night. James tried to focus his eyes on the sky above, but everything was spinning so badly it felt as if the sky wasn’t above him at all, but maybe underneath him or otherwise somewhere to the left. James produced a combined hiccough and burp, which made them both giggle.

“Forgot I have these,” said Sirius, who was steadying himself with the hand that was holding the bottle, pressing it into the snow, while his other hand was rooting through his trouser pocket. 

“Muggle fags again?” James guessed, and tried to frown, although he was having some difficulty controlling everything above his mouth. His eyes didn’t seem to be working anymore, and James wondered if he’d lost his glasses somewhere. 

“Want one?” James could hear the click of a lighter. He rather liked the lighter, it was a bit like a wand with just the one function. Muggles could be quite crafty. His hands finally found his face, and he discovered that he was wearing his glasses after all. How odd. 

“No thanks. They’ll kill you, you know,” James told his best mate solemnly.

“But I look so cool smoking them,” Sirius said, and James thought he probably wasn’t joking. He crinkled his nose at the sour smoke his best friend was exhaling next to him.

“Secondary smoking kills as well, you know,” continued James vaguely, and there was a hand in front of him trying to grasp the smoke, trying to catch it or chase it away. 

“Pardon. I’ll breathe it out the other side.”

“Is it important to you because you can do anything you want now?” asked James, who was starting to wonder if the hand in front of him might be his own. 

“Maybe,” Sirius said thoughtfully. He sounded uncertain. 

“Should we get some more weed for Moony?” asked James, which made them both descend into giggles. James had gotten hold of some of the stuff during the autumn, and together they had convinced Remus to smoke some on the day of the full moon, thinking it might alleviate his symptoms. It had done so, but to the point where Remus had acted like a drooling and giggling crup puppy, and Madam Pomfrey had seen fit to give him a stern lesson on the dangers of hallucinogens as he lay in a hospital bed recuperating from the full. It had been hilarious for the other three, but James wasn’t quite sure if Moony had forgiven them yet. 

“I took some weird muggle pills just before Christmas,” Sirius informed him.

“Oh?” 

“The first night I was back in London I managed to get out without them noticing. Walked past this muggle house party of sorts in Angel, nearish to Grimmauld Place. There was a girl there, and she wanted to try shagging when she was on drugs.”

“How was it?” James had turned his head enough that he could see Sirius and the serious tone in his friend’s voice was making him sober up just a little. 

“It’s like… I can barely remember it.” Sirius swayed a little; he was still sitting up. “Mostly I just remember waking up when it was still dark outside, on the floor with all these other people. Took me ages to find my clothes, it was so dark and I had to be careful not to fall over anyone. They all looked like they were dead, I remember actually touching a few to see if they were still warm, still breathing. Anyway, it was bloody weird, and then I had to walk back to Islington in the cold and sneak in without waking anyone. I passed out on the way, even, and… Well.”

“You don’t remember having sex?” James said, feeling a little horrified and very confused at the admission. 

“I know we were on a bed to begin with, she put a condom on me with her mouth and it was really sexy. But then it all goes blank and I woke up in a completely different room. Anyway, point is I still think there must be a substance of some kind we can give to Moony to make things easier for him. Not this one, I don’t think, but I feel like the muggles might have something wizards don’t know about. Since muggles don’t have werewolves, and wizards and witches don’t use muggle drugs. I’m sure there is something that’s not been tested across the board, yet.”

James made a noise of agreement, although his mind was still boggling over Sirius forgetting something as important as a shag. If James had been having sex he sure as Merlin’s love for Morgana wouldn’t have forgotten a single detail about it. He couldn’t wait for the day Lily Evans finally succumbed to his charms and took his virginity. Maybe fifth year would be the year when they finally found each other. James sighed and smiled happily at the stars. He thought they were becoming clearer, and the moon seemed to be stationary in the sky again. Good.

“What job would you want to do if you were a muggle?” Sirius asked as the bottle dropped out of his relaxed hand. It looked empty, and besides James would probably have vomited if he had another sip, so there was no reason to chastise Sirius for his carelessness.

“Astronaut,” James said immediately. He had heard Lily and Mary Macdonald talk about the Americans and the Soviets who were competing for the skies, and he thought the muggles could probably do with a fearless Brit who was fond of flying. 

“I think I’ve had enough of space,” said Sirius, looking up with a scowl. “Bloody stars. Sodding moon. They only cause trouble, I reckon. I’d want to be a rockstar. A sexy one, like Bowie or Marc Bolan.”

“You’re halfway there, with the clothes and the muggle makeup,” James conceded. “Shame you can’t sing for shit.”

“Spell or a potion would take care of that,” countered Sirius, but James wasn’t having it.

“You couldn’t if you were to live as a muggle, you wanker. You’d have to play by their rules.”

“And you’d have to breathe in space with muggle methods! No bringing your wand on the spaceship.”

“I thought you if anyone would understand the beauty of muggle transport,” said James with a grin. 

Sirius grinned back, as good as admitting defeat. 

“I want to get a motorbike, and I want to charm it so that it can fly.”

James was quiet for a bit, then nodded his approval, which rather hurt his head. The snow crunched underneath it and echoed in his head.

“As long as I’m the first one you take for a spin on it.”

“Of course,” Sirius said, sounding sincere. “Maybe you’ll like it better than broomsticks.”

“Not a chance,” James said with a wide yawn. He was a little cold now; the damp had seeped through his clothes and felt as if it was trying to make it through his skin now.

“Sun’s rising,” Sirius said softly.

“Reckon we should head back, then,” James said reluctantly. He didn’t really want to leave, but they needed to get back before his parents woke up. His father was a disconcertingly early riser, as so many elderly people were. 

They helped each other up, nearly falling over in the process, and James conscientiously put the empty bottle in the dustbin by the school. His legs felt like cauldron pewter, but with Sirius by his side he thought he could have mustered the energy for anything if required. 

“Question number five. What is the capital of Madagascar?”

Sirius’s eyes were annoyed and a little bit desperate as they met James’s, and James could do nothing but laugh. They had quite different ways of reacting when faced with adversity, which admittedly was a rare thing. Sirius would no doubt need his ego stroked all night and James would laugh until he felt genuinely happy again.

They had seen a sign on the door of one of the Alton Pancras pubs (the Egg and the Chicken) that stated that there would be a pub quiz in the evening, and of course the two of them had decided they should partake, nay breeze in and show everybody else how quizzing was done. It had been easy to convince each other they would smash it, and now here they were, five questions in and with five equally made-up answers to show. This one they should’ve been able to answer correctly, too, surely it had been written in one of the letters Remus had sent them?

Actually, Remus’s letters had been curiously devoid of reports of his life on holiday. He had merely written that the weather was hot, the food nice, and the people very friendly. When Sirius, full of innuendo (as was his lot in life), had asked an innocent question about exactly how friendly these people were, he had gotten an extraordinarily evasive reply. Something was definitely up, but then James and Sirius had been too busy with their own undertakings to analyse it further and to send a properly needling reply back with Odin the owl.

Odin was James’s owl, the one he had gotten on his 11th birthday. He was rather beautiful, jet black and with a shiny and fluffy plumage. James’s mum had been confused when he named it after a one-eyed deity, and even more confused when he pointed out to her that the bird did in fact only have one eye. She’d even asked him if he’d done something to it to make it lose an eye, and James had been affronted at her bad observational skills when making the purchase and by her belief that he would harm an innocent creature just for a laugh. 

Be as it may, Odin had never liked James much, in fact the owl did sometimes act as though James had poked its eye out. He really hadn’t, though. Seriously, he hadn’t.

Life at the Potters’ was better than ever now that Sirius was there permanently. James had been trying to make him move in since first year, when Sirius had returned from the Christmas holidays with some weird bruising he had been reluctant to explain the origin of. Sirius got into needless and occasionally violent fights weekly in first year at Hogwarts, but this was different. He had told James about his sweet, harmless weakling of a younger brother before and since it didn't add up James had come to the uncomfortable realization that one of his parents must’ve hurt him over the holidays. 

How someone could dislike anyone who was in Gryffindor was completely beyond James, as it was clearly the best house. Even Sirius's parents should be able to see its merits. Slytherins were Slytherins, of course, but still. Sirius was supposed to be their son, their own flesh and blood. It was incomprehensible and tended to hurt James's head when he attempted to think about it.

At least Sirius was home now.

They didn’t know muggle facts for shit as it turned out. They came last in the pub quiz, although there admittedly were only four other teams competing, and all other teams had more than two people on it. 

Sirius went up and got them pints of lager afterwards, and although the woman behind the bar could probably tell he wasn’t old enough she must have felt sorry enough for their abysmal performance in the quiz that she poured the pints without asking for ID. Neither of them liked lager all that much, but James found that it was becoming easier to drink with each year that passed. 

They were suddenly joined by a cute girl James had a vague recollection of playing with when he was a small child in the village, before his accidental and sometimes not-so accidental magic became too much of an eye-sore for the mostly muggle village, and he got to spend a lot more time by himself, stealing his parents wands for entertainment and flying in the back yard. 

The girl introduced herself as Flora and sat down quite close to Sirius, which shouldn’t really have been a surprise. She probably didn’t remember James. James watched them with mingled pride and wistfulness. Sirius was a complete slag and James wouldn’t want to be in his position for all the gold in Gringotts. He had known from the start that Lily Evans was the only girl for him, and Sirius didn’t even tease him much for that anymore. But as he watched Sirius’s hand go from innocently resting on Flora’s shoulder to stroking her arm to suddenly cupping her breast, he did feel a bit annoyed. Flora giggled into Sirius’s neck and leaned in further and did nothing to tell him off for touching her inappropriately. It wasn’t just the way Sirius looked either, James felt certain; he had a way of being witty and intense and a bit nonchalant all at once that girls seemed to fall for every time. If only Sirius had been interested in pursuing one girl, but no, he seemed intent on trying out every girl just once or twice and then he acted as if there had been nothing of consequence there, even though, to James at least, sex seemed like the ultimate way to be close with someone else.

Sirius usually slept around when the other Marauders were busy, in particular when James’s quidditch practices took up most evenings of the week. the last time he had tried to chastise Sirius over his bad habit Sirius had told him he would always pick the Marauders over any girl, and James could agree that all evidence pointed to this being true. Sirius slept around when he was bored or needed an ego-boost (like now), and when he wasn’t, he barely noticed the girls who fawned over him at all times in school. 

James let his eyes stray back from Flora’s tits, both of which were being rubbed and squeezed, and caught Sirius’s eye. Sirius was looking straight at him, which was a bit disconcerting considering what he was busy doing. James shuddered and pulled a face at his best mate. Flora was moaning softly into his neck. Sirius looked questioning and mildly apologetic, and James shrugged and waved Sirius’s apology away. Maybe this would be the girl Sirius fell for and James should just leave them to it. He downed the last of his pint and left soon after.


	11. Can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from "Habits" by Tove Lo.

James gave up on him around the same time Flora stuck her hand down Sirius’s trousers. Sirius was vaguely aware of him saying his goodbyes; sounding almost disappointed. They had had a great night just the two of them, of course, but Sirius was pretty sure that James wouldn’t have been at all upset if he too had had a nice-looking muggle to snog.

Snogging very soon wasn’t enough, of course, but the toilets in the pub were impossible to use for a shag. Without thinking very much of the consequences, Sirius decided to take the girl back with him. After all he’d done the same several times when he still lived in Grimmauld Place (had been caught in the act once by his father and once by his brother), and the muggles had been none the wiser about the existence of magic after their visits. They’d found the house odd, sure, but as it had been late at night they hadn’t seen much of importance. Even the portraits had looked almost frozen in place, and Sirius thought it likely that muggle eyes triggered most magical objects to appear normal. Besides, the Potters’ house wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Grimmauld Place.

“In here,” he whispered in Flora’s ear when they reached the door to the guestroom. It still looked mostly like a guestroom, even though Euphemia had taken to referring to it as “Sirius’s room”. Sirius didn’t switch on the lights to avoid alerting her to his decidedly non-muggle school things which were scattered around the room. He did have to dig around his trunk to find the packet of muggle condoms he had bought during the summer holidays, which apparently were vital to the sex life of muggles. Magic certainly was superior in some ways, Sirius thought as he awkwardly dressed his prick in one of the pale bits of rubber. Then Flora stuck her hand there to help him, and he decided that muggle methods maybe had their perks, after all. 

Sirius tried to keep them both as quiet as possible and until the very end it seemed as if nobody else in the house had become any the wiser to his activities with the secret houseguest. He had dried off excess fluids on his sheets and was getting his underwear and muggle t-shirt back on to be able to sneak her back out of the house when there was a single knock on the door and James’s mother suddenly opened it and stepped into the room. 

Sirius stared nervously at her, wondering how best to alert her to the fact that the girl was a muggle. Flora was fortunately already dressed, back in her winter coat even, and she giggled a little at the awkwardness.

“I’ll just follow Flora to the garden gate, will be right back,” Sirius said, diving in before anyone else spoke. Euphemia raised an eyebrow and then stepped to the side, indicating that they could exit. Sirius didn’t bother pulling his jeans back on, they were uncomfortably tight anyway, and he thought that the cold air might do him some good as his skin felt clammy. He’d left his shoes upstairs, so he stopped inside the front door with Flora on the doorstep, standing on her tiptoes even in her boots to be able to reach his mouth properly. It was a very nice goodbye kiss; the whole night had been very nice in fact. She gave his hand a last squeeze and then she turned and left, not even leaving her phone number like muggles, in Sirius’s limited experience, had a tendency of doing. He watched her until she was safely outside of the Potter’s property and then he made his way back upstairs. 

Euphemia had made the bed with fresh sheets, which was rather more than Sirius felt he deserved. She was sitting at the foot end, and she had put the packet of condoms, two unopened packets of fags, the muggle lighter and Sirius’s wand on the bed beside her. 

“We need to have a little chat,” she told him, and he searched her face worriedly for clues on what might come next. She didn’t look angry or upset, if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was trying not to laugh. Then again, he had had several bad experiences with people in his vicinity laughing as they punished him for his behaviour. He decided his best bet was to trust Euphemia, to see her as an extension of James, and he sat down on the bed with her, next to the pillows. The smell of sweat and sex and Flora’s watermelon lip-gloss had been replaced with a clean, leafy scent that came from the new sheets. 

“Is your girlfriend a muggle?” Euphemia began. 

“Yes, but she’s not my girlfriend,” Sirius replied uncomfortably. 

“Right,” Euphemia said, almost a little sadly, and picked up the mostly empty box of condoms. “I hope that you still treated her with the kindness and respect all young women deserve?”

“Of course!” 

So that was what she was worried about? Sirius felt his face twist into a haughty sneer as most of his worries flew out the window. It made sense that James’s mother wouldn’t mind that the girl was a muggle, of course she wasn’t secretly a bigot.

“You were mindful of her wishes?” Euphemia asked again, and Sirius realized the renewed sharpness might have been a reaction to his facial expression.

“Yeah, I always am,” he said evenly.

“Always? Well, I’m glad you know how to use these, in that case”, she continued, wrinkling her nose a little at the box in her hand. “You need to promise me to always use them with muggles, that is if you decide to have intercourse with any more of them _after you turn seventeen_.” She gave him a very stern look, reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, as she enunciated the last four words. Sirius looked innocently back and hoped she wouldn’t make him promise anything he couldn’t keep. She didn’t break eye-contact, though, and was clearly expecting something.

“I promise I’ll always use condoms with muggles, and I promise I’ll always be nice to everyone I have sex with,” Sirius said, and he could have sworn he saw a smile cross Euphemia’s face. She dropped the box back on the bed and carefully lifted his wand instead. 

“Do you know how to cast spells that act as contraception and prevent the spread of diseases?”

He nodded emphatically. They were second nature at this stage, but somehow he didn’t think she wanted to hear that. She was looking a bit anxious now as well, as if she would prefer to leave their talk there. She powered on, however.

“How many sexual partners have you had before tonight?”

Sirius eyed his wand uncomfortably and tried to count. It was difficult when he was on edge, ready to scarper if it turned out he had misread the situation. Euphemia didn’t sound angry though, just concerned.

James would probably know the answer, Sirius thought. His best mate, for all his assertions that he wouldn’t care to shag anyone but Lily Evans, was still remarkably interested in who Sirius was doing it with and how each new girl measured up. This was probably not the answer James’s mother was looking for, though. 

He realized he’d taken too long to answer as she sighed, and for the first time he thought he could see traces of upset and maybe pity in her face. 

“That’s too many, Sirius. Consent for these acts can’t be given until you come of age. That is the law, and the law exists to protect young people. Sex as an act of mutual love or at least mutual respect isn’t an issue, but your age and the age of the people you’re with is. Am I making myself clear? I’m assuming any conversations you’ve had with your parents on this subject haven’t been very illuminating?”

Sirius shivered a little and tried not to think of that. His mother had barged into his room once when Bellatrix had been there, in the middle of forcing him to do something he really didn’t want to think about now that he was older. Bellatrix had forgotten all about him once he’d been sorted into Gryffindor, fortunately, but his mother had never forgiven him for what she had seen, never mind that he hadn’t wanted to do things like that with Bellatrix in the first place. There was no way he was telling Euphemia about it, though.

“My dad left me in a bodybind curse for over a day once,” Sirius said instead and looked resolutely at his wand in her hand. He could see the skin paling as her fingers clenched around it. “He found me a bit like you just did.”

“The more I hear of him the more your father sounds like the scum of the earth,” said Euphemia, voice heavy with some emotion Sirius couldn’t quite place. He didn’t dare look at her face. “If you want to talk more about the things that went on in your home I’m happy to listen, Sirius.”

“Nah. It wasn’t at all that bad most of the time,” Sirius tried to explain. “It was more their politics that drove me up the wall, I couldn’t stand listening to their opinions.”

“If you say so,” Euphemia said quietly, and Sirius refused to meet her gaze. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, but it always felt as if Euphemia, and James before her, read more things into what he said than what he meant for them to do. “What I told you still stands, I’d be more than happy to listen or to talk with you about any of it. Small things or big ones.”

Sirius thought that was all well and easy for her to say, but he really didn’t know how to talk about his family. He got so angry when he thought about how helpless he had been, how many times there had been when he had found himself at his father’s, mother’s or worst of all Bellatrix’s mercy, incapacitated in one way or other or made a fool out of in front of people, the private laughing stock of everyone with the last name Black because he wouldn’t conform. It was even difficult to be self-righteous about it, even though he knew he’d been right and they had been wrong. The memories were humiliating on that deep a level. He, whose arrogance and self-esteem famously knew no bounds, had almost been broken by those people. It was not something he could put into words for a sweet old lady like Euphemia, it was something he could barely even share with James. And James was the most important person in the world to Sirius, the boy he had shared his first ride on the Hogwarts Express with, his every prank with, and whom he would always share his last chocolate frog with. 

Something touched his hand, and he realized she was giving his wand back to him. It felt warm and comforting in his hands. 

“We’ll never treat you like that in this family, and you are one of this family now, if you’ll have us.”

Sirius nodded quickly and swallowed down a foreign lump in his throat. He was amazed that she’d actually said it out loud. He’d never felt more welcome anywhere in his life, but he hadn’t realized that James’s parents had given any thought to having a second boy to look after, he’d more assumed that they were both old and eccentric enough not to really notice him. He stole a look at Euphemia to make sure that she really meant it and was met by the sweetest look he thought he’d ever seen in anybody’s eyes. It made him blush, even though he was a Black and Black’s never blushed. 

“You’re too young to practice intercourse, and I hope I won’t find you like this again. You also can’t smoke these revolting things and I’m confiscating them.” Euphemia suited her words to action and took both the cigarette packets from the bed. She hesitated with her free hand by the lighter, but then shrugged and left it. She also didn’t confiscate the condoms, Sirius noted, and he thought it likely that she would simply look the other way from now on as long as he tried to be discreet about it. 

She continued surprising him by using her free hand to stroke over his head. He didn’t think his hair could feel or look particularly nice as he’d been engaging in such a sweaty activity not long ago, but it didn’t seem to bother her. The touch was nice and felt oddly void of obligation or need for reciprocation.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

Sirius put away his wand and the lighter and the condoms and laid down on the soft, clean sheets. He was of course sated from the shag, but there was something more he could feel this time, or maybe something less. It felt as if a weight had lifted from within his ribcage, something that had been locked up that had freed itself and flown off. He felt light and oddly good; he didn’t much feel as if he had misbehaved and been reprimanded at all. No wonder James was so blasé about rules if this was the extent of punishments he got for it. Sirius’s eyes fluttered close and he couldn’t remember a single dream that night.


	12. When I look on in your eyes then I find that I’ll do fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "'74, '75" by The Connells.

Remus arrived back in Wales two days before the start of spring term and the trip back on the Hogwarts Express. He and his parents got a muggle aeroplane back, which was rather exciting. Because of his status as a werewolf, Lyall had been certain that they would not be able to get an international portkey for their trip, and that coupled with Hope’s dislike of magical transportation had led to them travelling on a muggle plane. Remus had never been on one before, and it had been incredible to see Africa, Southwestern Europe and then Southern England and finally Wales underneath him. He couldn’t wait to tell the other Marauders about it, as he was quite sure none of them had travelled on an aeroplane before, either. 

The Lupins’ lived on the outskirts of a tiny village in a small house with a large cellar and an even larger garden. Hope was an avid gardener, and dark creatures were kept in the cellar.

The garden was covered in snow when they arrived back, really the weather was quite a shock to the system for all of them. Hope had any amount of muggle plants and several magical ones; including an ever-blooming cactus and something that looked like a hydrangea bush but which sang German operas at a borderline unsafe volume whenever it needed watering. It was mercifully quiet now, though, Remus suspected it had gone into hibernation.

The things in the cellar were in no way hibernating, though, despite the significant drop in temperature that the cellar of the house experienced during cold weather. Remus quite understood the beasties that lived there; he was quite sure the wolf didn’t mind the cold when he was put in there, either. 

The cellar was equipped with an almost grotesque-looking steal cage, one of such robust a make that the additional trapping- and locking enchantments Lyall had gifted it with were likely completely superfluous. 

Other than increasingly rarer guest-appearances by Moony the werewolf (Remus was at Hogwarts for most of the year nowadays, after all) the cellar was home to all sorts of interesting dark creatures; a bundimun kept under several experimental charms that kept it from devouring the house, a vicious and clever old boggart and some odd, snow-white bat-like creatures that all spoke amongst themselves and quite enjoyed taunting the werewolf when he was in residence (or Remus had gathered as much from the moments just before transforming; he really couldn’t be accused of being in his right state of mind when he was a werewolf and so had no idea what went on after moon rise).

The boggart had apparently gotten lose during the holiday, and as they entered the sitting room of the chilly cottage, Remus carrying an armful of firewood and his parents all of their suitcases, they were met with the sight of a werewolf, which was growling menacingly and frothing at the mouth. It had an improbable amount of sharp yellow teeth, too.

After a shocked silence they all recognized it for what it was, and Lyall got his wand out and took care of it. Hope looked close to tears and Remus couldn’t bring himself to ask whose boggart it was. Maybe it was a collective effort.

Remus spent most of the day with his mother, savouring her company as best he could. It was odd, that. When he first found out she was going to die before he even graduated school, he had been desperate to talk to her, ask her how she was, ask her for memories, for likes and dislikes, for recollections nobody else could have. She had answered every question, she had shared everything she had with him, all the while with an indulgent expression on her face, as if she was letting her small son have some chocolate before dinner, even though she really knew better. 

Remus had realized, sometime during the previous few months, that he had been mourning her prematurely. She wasn’t gone yet, but somehow he had kickstarted that process in his mind as if she was. Of course it had been a blessing, considering the circumstances, to be allowed time to say goodbye. It had also been good to be able to talk and ask about everything he thought he might feasibly want to know about her now, before it was too late, but they were now at the stage where Remus had devoured even her embarrassing childhood memories of stealing toys from her sister, and explanations of how to take care of the ever-blooming cactus, which was something Remus knew would be well beyond his capabilities (he had actually managed to kill a small muggle-style potted cactus once, and they were supposed to be indestructible). Remus had been so focused on getting to know every single detail about his mother he didn’t naturally know in the capacity of her child, that he had almost forgotten to spend time normally with her, to lazy around the house in the late mornings, each of them with their respective cups of tea in hand and still in their morning gowns, or how much he enjoyed sitting in her little art studio while she created, watching her hands patiently and somehow effortlessly forming clay into something beautiful and delicate, something only Remus’s mother could make. 

Remus was beginning to rectify this now, actively refusing to think about whether or not the days here would be their last together.

“You’re my greatest accomplishment, you know,” Hope said. She had been looking intently at the lump of clay that was taking shape into a bird of some sort, something with a long and beautiful feathery tail. Now she was looking straight at Remus, their near-identical eyes meeting as if to share some great sort of understanding between mother and son. 

Remus swallowed and felt his whole face and neck colour into a dull red that was not Madagascar sunburn. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and so he just stayed quiet, looking at his mother’s familiar face and at the delicate phoenix taking shape underneath her nimble fingers. He wondered if she knew they were real in his world, but somehow it felt cruel to ask.


	13. Rebel rebel, your face is a mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Rebel Rebel" by David Bowie.

James had been gifted the new Cleansweep Six for Christmas, and his mother had agreed that he could go and buy new kneepads and a new training outfit in Gryffindor colours with her money. She was in an exceptionally good mood, close to ecstatic really, all because Sirius had agreed to let her take him clothes shopping. They were going to both Gladrags and to a muggle shop, and James was supposed to meet them there afterwards. It was rather a hilarious notion, James’s mum and James’s best mate off on a shopping spree. As long as both consented, James supposed it was all okay. 

The girl behind the counter at Quality Quidditch Supplies had been on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team back when James was a second-year, and he had consequently played against her once. They’d lost the game, but only because of their seeker, and she remembered him as “that chaser who kept playing even after he got hit in the head with a bludger”. It had earned him a lot of respect at the time, and James felt a great sense of achievement as she chattered away with him, reliving the famous game where he’d first made a name for himself as a brilliant quidditch player. Three years later he was close to legendary status; he usually made at least five goals per game and he was renowned for his spectacular bludger dodging on a broom (the beaters on the opposing team almost always aimed for him, because he was the most valuable chaser Gryffindor had and because his moves on his broom generally made for excellent entertainment), and he tried to get this across to her as he told her of the game against Slytherin that November. It had been on Sirius’s birthday, and James had made the whole audience sing Happy Birthday to his best mate while he spun around and around on his broom, quaffle in hand, and when the line “Happy Birthday to Sirius” rang out he’d stopped his spinning and made a goal facing backwards. He’d been hit by a bludger in the back straight after, but the standing ovation had made it well worth it. The former Ravenclaw student laughed appreciatively at his story, and James was in extremely good spirits as he left the shop with his purchases in a canvas bag he’d gotten from her for free. It bore the slogan “Supreme Bludger-Dodger”. 

James left Diagon Alley and walked towards the crossing of Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street, where his mother had told him to come. He found his mum and Sirius in a small boutique, Euphemia already laden with shopping bags and Sirius pretending the cramped shop was his personal catwalk. 

“Doesn’t he look handsome?” Euphemia asked of James as he dropped into the old-fashioned grandfather chair next to her.

“Maybe if you think goldfish are handsome,” James said mockingly, and Sirius threw a two-fingered salute his way. He was wearing a red- and gold sequined shirt that fitted tightly over his broad shoulders and shapely waist, but the arms were wide and flamboyant. 

“More like a phoenix, I think,” Euphemia said proudly, and James could see something fiercely protective in there. He gave her hand a grateful squeeze.

“I see how it is. You’ve finally acquired the daughter you always hoped for,” James said, trying to feign jealousy. Sirius didn’t look nearly as upset as James wanted him to, instead he preened happily in front of the shop’s mirror.

“We’re absolutely getting that, but I’m still not sure about those white trousers you tried on earlier,” Euphemia said, ignoring James’s comment although there was something very fond in the deep lines around her mouth. “They were unnecessarily tight, don’t you think?”

“I reckon that was the point,” Sirius said, and James could tell that he really wanted the trousers in question. “It’s your money, though,” he continued graciously and a bit reluctantly. 

“Let’s see them,” James said, the striking realization that Sirius probably didn’t have any money anymore hitting him. Sirius met his gaze in the mirror. He had some mascara on by the looks of it, and James wondered if his mother had bought him make-up, too. She was rather an enabler, it seemed. “Are you as poor as Moony, now?” he asked out loud, and Sirius winced, dark make-up smudging above his eyes. 

“He’s as poor as you are, James,” Euphemia bit out sharply. “Do you need any new clothes, love?”

“Nope,” James said quickly, grasping the bag containing his new quidditch gear to his chest. Sirius retreated into the changing rooms, flashing a dazzling smile to the middle-aged woman working behind the counter as he went. Euphemia took his bag from him and gave his purchases a cursory look as they waited. James tried to stuff his hands into his jean’s pockets instead, but they were crammed with things and wouldn’t fit. He preferred robes for that simple reason; they had much larger pockets where he could store the essentials. His muggle jeans pockets currently contained his wand, three gobstones, a muggle lighter he’d stolen from Sirius, a small bag of weed he’d bought earlier when his mother wasn’t looking, an ear-ring he’d stolen from Lily Evans’s bedside table in the Gryffindor dormitory and a plastic bag filled with muggle elastic bands, which he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. He took a couple out from his overstuffed pocket with some difficulty, stretching one around his fingers and pulling and aiming.

“Fuck you Prongs,” Sirius said loudly, rubbing his shoulder and ignoring the reprimands he was given by Euphemia. He was wearing a short, cashmere yellow jumper and a pair of extremely tight, white jeans. They were without flares and artfully ripped over one knee, and they cut into his thigh muscles and bum and groin like a second skin.

“Oh you have to get those and wear them where McGonagall can see you,” James said immediately.

“Professor McGonagall, James,” Euphemia said, but her attention was mostly on Sirius. “Why would she want to see Sirius dressed like this?”

“She loves a nice bit of thigh-muscle, right, Sirius?” James responded immediately, meeting Sirius’s amused gaze in the mirror.

“I’ve got good legs, don’t I?” Sirius agreed haughtily.

“Tremendous thighs,” James deadpanned, and he could see his mother’s mouth twitching with supressed laughter.

“Alright, if you’re absolutely sure you want them,” Euphemia said, giving in like she usually did. James and Sirius beamed at each other. Maybe James was an enabler, too.


	14. Tried to square not being there, but think I should have been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Hold Back the River" by James Bay.

Peter had put off the 8-foot long History of Magic essay until the last day of the holidays. It was due on Monday, the morning after they’d get back on the Hogwarts Express. After six hours of struggling with despair and boredom, he now had 5 feet and 9 inches on the Goblin Rebellion of 1733, and he didn’t think it was possible for him to add another inch to it. He had even filled out the parchment with details on the subsequent rebellion of 1734, which seemed completely unconnected to the 1733 one. He had also added a handful of made-up goblins with excellent long names to the background of the story, even though that meant risking a failing grade. He averaged an Acceptable in most classes, and that was only by putting in a lot of work, spending time he would much rather have spent marauding on sitting in the common room doing homework like a mere mortal. His mother didn’t expect more than a passing grade from him, he knew, but she had her own way of expressing this. She frequently made fun of his uninspiring marks, but she would always preface said piss-taking by stating that she was surprised he didn’t just fail all subjects, what with the unfortunate genes he had inherited from his father’s side. Peter might have been alright with his grades regardless of what his mother said had it not been for his three friends. All three of them had much better grades than him, and that was with the same (or even larger) amount of extracurricular activities that he had. 

James and Sirius probably had the highest grades in the year, or at least they would have had if they had ever bothered to apply themselves in classes. They seemed to know everything already, and it was quite a hopeless feeling to sit next to them in the common room, trying to finish your homework or an essay while they shot hexes about, told rude anecdotes to older students, or played exploding snap. Peter had seen the sternest of teachers (even Professor McGonagall) become speechless when they really applied themselves and went beyond what was asked of them in the classroom. Twelve-year-old James transforming her glasses into a lush plant of catnip in an ornamental pot sprang to mind as a rare time when James had actually been awarded house points by their Head of House. 

Peter had no idea how James and Sirius saw magic. It clearly came effortlessly to both of them, they rarely if ever seemed to struggle with anything new and they were good at coming up with their own stuff whenever the school curriculum failed their combined pool of imagination (which happened at least once a week). Peter had a feeling that if he’d had other friends than those two, he would have been considered average. As it was, he felt like a complete idiot most of the time. The fact that he could perform a neat, non-verbal disarming spell, or that his ‘impedimenta’ was sometimes strong enough to completely freeze his victim in place, wasn’t really noticeable next to the type of brilliance that poured effortlessly out of James and Sirius. Peter’s obvious shortcomings in Transfiguration and his abysmal memory for dates and lack of interest in wizarding politics were crude and glaringly obvious next to them. 

Remus wasn’t that great at magic either, although he was finely tuned to nuances in charms and rather good at mild hexes and jinxes. His general lack of confidence became glaringly obvious whenever faced with charms or transfiguration that needed power behind it, and for some reason Remus was simply rubbish at Potions. Where he was significantly better than Peter was in essay writing, however. He had the patience to read things over and over, to understand the theory and to successfully copy the important bits down, and his language was precise and engaging enough that his sometimes poor practical performances were at least weighed up by high marks on all his essays. Peter was frequently told by his professors that his essays were too short, or off the mark, and that his grammar left a lot to be desired. It was a difficult thing to fix, even though it was easier when he took his time and wrote his essays in the vicinity of Remus. The issue was that James and Sirius were as a rule up to something much more interesting while Remus did his homework, and Peter lived under the constant fear of missing out. 

The current history essay on the goblin rebellion was as good as it was going to get without Remus’s input, however, and Peter was itching for a cigarette after all his hard work. As he exited his attic bedroom his ink-stained fingers fumbled with the fresh packet that had been left in his room that morning and he sent Rollo a fond albeit confused thought. He couldn’t quite understand why his mother’s boyfriend kept giving him fags, but it made him feel grown up and almost as if he was Rollo’s equal. Rollo had scoffed when Peter told him about the boring essay waiting for him, and he had, with a wink, explained to Peter that he never got his NEWTs. School was overrated, Rollo had said, and there would be jobs waiting for Peter no matter if he stayed at Hogwarts for five years or seven. 

Peter had his friends, though, so he wasn’t tempted in the least to quit school and get a job as it would mean saying goodbye to sharing ten months of the year with James and the others. He thought he would rather die than do that; or join the Death Eaters.

As Peter jogged downstairs, huffing a little from exertion, he noticed that it was eerily quiet in the house. There had been more snow in the night, and it was as if this new layer was exercising a padding effect on everything. It was dark out, already, even with the enchanting blue-white covering the outside world. 

There were no lights on in the kitchen, nor in the hallway. Peter came to a halt in the middle of the kitchen, fags still in hand but hesitating. There was a broken tea mug in the middle of the floor, white pieces of porcelain scattered over the green and yellow rag rug. 

Peter could suddenly hear a little sniff, and he stared apprehensively at the sitting room door. It had been left ajar, and there was a small flicker of light coming from in there.

Peter knocked quietly once on the door before he slipped in. The lights weren’t on, but the fireplace was lit, and his mother was sitting in front of it on the floor. She had a stack of photos in her hand. As Peter watched she sniffed again and threw a photograph into the flames. The inhabitants of the photo (herself and Rollo) screamed soundlessly and waved their hands, clearly upset by the action. There were the remnants of several other photos in the fire already.

Peter hesitated. His mother hadn’t acknowledged his presence yet and it was still possible to retreat, pretend that he didn’t know something was wrong.

His eyes fell on the cushions on his mother’s sofa, next to the window. They were all green except for one. The last one was red, red for Gryffindor. Red for Peter.

He shuffled over to her, his hands still worrying over the packet of fags. He sat down close to her on the floor, casting his eyes over the photographs in her lap. They all contained Rollo, as far as he could tell.

Peter could see an angry tear glittering on his mother’s cheek, caught by the light of the fire, and he looked up as she viciously threw another photograph into the flames. Underneath the tear there was a bruise, Peter could see it now that he was close by, an ugly purple thing that looked startlingly out of place on his mother’s face. 

She wasn’t looking at him, eyes completely focused on the fire, but her hand extended towards him and there was a photo in there. Peter took it. It was one of him, his mother and Rollo, one taken on Christmas Eve just a short two weeks ago. Peter put it on top of his cigarettes, shielding them from view. Rollo was smiling self-assuredly at him from the photo, his arm tight around Mrs Pettigrew. Peter himself looked awkward but rather happy, nay almost proud in the photo. As if he thought his mother had finally made a good choice, as if he was glad she was finally moving on with her life. 

Peter threw the photo and the fags on the fire, and his hands shook as he did it. He was never going to smoke a cigarette again.


	15. We can climb so high I never wanna die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf.

The evening before they had to take the Hogwarts Express back was spent running wild on the frosty fields on the other side of the little river. They competed both as humans and as animals, and James won every time Sirius didn’t trip him. In retaliation his best mate almost pushed him into the river, and it made Sirius laugh even louder than James. They were exhausted by the time they got back into the village, but not exhausted enough not to notice the great, rumbling noise made from a muggle vehicle of some sort. 

Sirius felt his heart hitch and quiver, there must have been some part of him that knew what it was even before they saw it.

“It’s a motorbike,” James whispered giddily in his ear once they saw it, and Sirius was momentarily too stunned to congratulate James on his excellent grasp of the obvious. Together they watched the rider of the motorbike slow down on his steed a mere stone’s throw away, coming to a stuttering halt in front of the pub. They waited as the leather-clad rider got off and strolled into The Egg and The Chicken, door swinging and creaking merrily behind him. Then they pounced; Sirius first and James right behind.

Sirius was wearing the new winter coat Euphemia had bought him (fitted dark blue with sleek black fur trimmings) and the pockets were big enough that he could easily hold and use his wand from within. A few charms later and the motorbike had been temporarily silenced and was up and running. Sirius got on, James right behind him, and off they went.

Steering was so much more fun than even Sirius had expected it to be, especially when there were real people, mostly little old ladies, in the street you got to dodge and swerve around. James was hollering with laughter into his neck, sometimes outright screaming in fright, but mostly laughing. Sirius himself was quiet, though, loving every second of the test ride so profoundly that he couldn’t come up with words or even a noise that could have expressed it. He needed one of these.

They tore up and down every single cobblestoned street and soon into a frosty country lane where they occasionally zoomed past another muggle vehicle. The most exhilarating bit came when Sirius tried to overtake a car at the same time as a second car drove past in the other direction, forcing him to balance precariously in the very middle of the road, gravel and ice flying up behind and around them and both cars honking their horns at him, James’s roars adding to the general cacophony. 

Sirius ended with a few wheelies on the deserted village green, feeling James’s arms around his waist gripping tight, tight. Then he drove slowly and carefully towards the tiny high street, at the other end of which the pub was located. As much as he wanted to keep the motorbike he didn’t want to steal something so precious. The real owner was undoubtedly very attached to the bike.

He drove slowly and carefully towards the pub, then swore and turned into a tiny close instead. The owner was outside the pub, together with one of the muggle MLE. 

“The police!” James hissed into his ear as he put his leg down and the bike stopped. Master of the obvious, indeed. Both boys got off and Sirius leant the bike carefully against the brick wall, mindful not to scratch anything. He gazed around surreptitiously, checking no muggles could see him, then pulled out his wand and performed a cleansing charm over the bike. It bubbled and frothed, leaving the bike sparkling in its wake. 

“Think they’ll find it?” Sirius asked, looking around at James. James shrugged and stuck his head out of the close.

“OI! It’s in here!”

Sirius set off at a run down the close, moving away from the high street, James right behind him. He was laughing again and soon caught up with Sirius. He was devilishly fast. If they hadn’t been running from the police, Sirius would definitely have tripped him up to ensure his own victory.

They only stopped running when they were outside of the Potters’ property, and Sirius looked up at the house with a contented smile on his lips. This was home, now. 

“I’m getting the first shower!” James told him as they stepped through the front door, and to be sure of it he set off at a run towards the bathroom the two of them shared. 

“Make it a quick wank, I don’t want to have to use magic again to make more warm water after you’ve used it all up, daydreaming about Evans,” Sirius shouted after him, then turned towards the kitchen. “Euphemia,” he continued politely in greeting. James’s mum was at the kitchen table with a newspaper in front of her, looking reproachfully at him. 

“It’s not objectifying her, it’s a compliment, really,” Sirius explained, and he could tell James’s mum was fighting a smile again, so it was all right. 

“There’s some laundry you and James can sort through once you’ve both showered,” she said, and he moved into the kitchen, noticing she had a quill in hand. “Any good at crossword puzzles, love?”

“Am I ever,” Sirius said haughtily, removing his coat and sitting himself down beside her. 

“Good, Fleamont and James are both rubbish,” Euphemia said, pushing the newspaper with the crossword a little bit towards him, so that it was between them both. Sirius stole her quill and filled in a word (Umfraville, which was the name of an author to a boring old quidditch book James kept in their dormitory), then he let her steal it back to add letters to form the word ‘alihotsy’ (ridiculous arboreal African catdog).

“It’s a magical plant, also known as the hyena tree,” Euphemia explained, and he made a small impressed noise. “I’m sure you’ll study it in Herbology at some point. You excited about school starting again?”

“A bit,” Sirius said. “Excited for us boys to be back together again, we do usually make a good time for ourselves.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I get letters, occasionally, from dear Professor McGonagall.”

“Yeah?” Sirius grinned unashamedly at her, trying to crack her would-be stern countenance. 

“Her epistles are rather short and to the point, as a rule. Sometimes it makes me feel like a failed parent, because surely you’re not supposed to receive letters about how your son has broken into the girls’ dormitory to leave an infestation of live peacocks up there, or be told that your son and his friends, for the third time, have been caught trying to get the caretaker’s cat drunk, whilst drunk themselves.” Euphemia cocked her head to the side as she watched him. It was a sweet, almost bird-like gesture.

“I don’t like cats, much,” Sirius offered.

“You’ll learn to, they’re useful little buggers,” Euphemia said. “Clever. Just like the four of you, I’m sure. I know you’re good boys, really, but could you try not to get caught so often?”

Sirius’s face split into an appreciative grin. Euphemia smiled right back.

“It would make me feel better. Your Head of House can be rather condescending, whatever her other qualities.”

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do,” Sirius promised her.


	16. I say never trust anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "The Trick is to Keep Breathing" by Garbage.

Remus felt quite emotional as he told his mother goodbye. His parents had taken the car all the way from Beddgelert, the village they had been living in ever since he started Hogwarts and their need to move several times a year, lest the neighbours figure out what was wrong with him, had diminished. Hope had been driving as it was something she greatly enjoyed, and man and wife were going to Oxford Street and were even hoping to catch a matinee in Covent Garden before driving home. Remus’s mother looked happy, partly because she was looking forward to the day’s outing and partly because she knew Remus enjoyed his time in school and was looking forward to seeing his friends again. Lyall’s face was more worried, although Remus thought both of his parents looked a bit healthier after their holiday in the sun. Lyall was looking around the platform in a would-be discreet manner, as always anxious when he had his muggle wife and his afflicted son with him in wizarding society where one or both might be treated badly if it became known what they were. There were plenty of muggles on Platform 9 3/4, though, and Remus didn’t think his mother was in much danger here. 

He could see Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald nearby, both with their fathers who were chatting amiably. Remus knew both Lily and Mary came from completely muggle families. He nodded politely and smiled at the girls when they looked up and saw him. Lily waved back and Mary nodded with a bare minimum of politeness. Lily was almost becoming a friend of Remus’s; they were the Gryffindor prefects for the fifth years and usually patrolled the corridors together one evening a week. Other than that, life as a prefect wasn’t too difficult, they mainly helped lost first-years and occasionally they had to break up small fights between classes. As Remus often was on the fringes of these fights (James and in particular Sirius enjoyed starting them, often as not) he had trained himself to look the other way unless there were other prefects present. It had worked fine so far, and Lily was witty and smart and quite good company.

Lyall was huffing impatiently and Remus was sure he would drag Hope off soon. Hope seemed to sense the same thing and she pulled Remus into a loving hug. Over her shoulder he could see James and Sirius, James carrying his one-eyed owl Odin on his shoulder (cages were for lesser owls, if Remus was to believe James) and Sirius brazenly levitating both their trunks, one on top of the other. In an awkward coincidence, Regulus Black appeared simultaneously from a throng of overdressed Slytherins, although mercifully he seemed to not be accompanied by either one of his parents. He gave Sirius a quick once-over, and Remus saw Sirius try and fail to ignore his little brother. He tossed his full head of hair in a way that would have looked laughable if attempted by anybody else, but that Sirius just about pulled off, and a haughty sneer emerged on his face. Regulus walked past with his head held high, facial expression identical to Sirius’s, and James took Sirius’s arm and dragged him towards Remus and his parents. 

“Time to go now, Hope,” Lyall said crisply and Hope gave Remus a quick kiss on his bent forehead before she turned to her husband.

“Mr and Mrs Lupin, pleasure as always!” Sirius said courteously and James waved and beamed at Hope in particular. Remus’s mother blew fond kisses at both of them and Remus’s dad nodded curtly. Then Remus was set upon by both of his friends and he was only vaguely aware of his parents disappearing back into King’s Cross Station. 

“You’re still so tanned, Remus, it’s not fair!” 

“You should’ve seen the motorcycle we saw yesterday, it was the most splendid thing!”

“What’re the girls like on Madagascar?”

“Look, there’s Peter! OI WORMTAIL!”

Remus laughed and winced at the loudness and turned his head with some difficulty (Sirius was hanging off his neck) to see where the fourth member of their group was. Peter had apparently walked into a girl, perhaps startled by James’s loud voice, and he now appeared to be apologizing to her, face bright red and small hands twisting nervously. The girl didn’t seem to mind, though, she was smiling shyly but rather enigmatically at him.

“Let’s go find a compartment, don’t want to share with any numpties.”

“You’re saying we should leave Peter to his own devices?”

“I’d tell you to stop being a cunt, Padfoot, but then it would be a shame wasting all those lovely clothes my mum bought you.”

Remus shook his head at the familiar banter, but he didn’t really disapprove. He made sure to grab Peter as they walked past him, though, and Peter gave him a relieved grin as he was hauled in, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold outside. 

“You do have loads of new freckles!” Peter wheezed, which made Sirius swing around sharply even as he continued walking, now backwards. Remus felt himself blush underneath the shared scrutiny from Sirius (for whom the crowd was parting) and Peter, whose eyes were kind and a little amused. He poked Remus on the cheek and Remus shook his head, ridding himself of the offending finger. 

“In here’s free!” 

The others followed James, who had managed to locate a free compartment. Sirius was still levitating two trunks and he made them fly up to the rack with a smooth wave of his wand. Remus and Peter helped one another to lift theirs up before they sank down on the remaining seats beside James. Sirius had stretched his long limbs out over the whole of one row of seats, Odin the owl balancing on one of his shoes.

“How’s living with the Potters’?” Remus asked of Sirius, and he almost shuddered as Sirius immediately turned his intense eyes on him. It felt like having a spotlight on him, even though it was just one person. Remus assumed this was a sensitive subject matter, he thought he could sense a reaction from both Peter and James.

“It’s excellent. James’s mother now finally has a son she can be proud of, so it’s a win-win for everyone, really.”

“He’s so full of shit,” James said conversationally, beginning to dig through his pockets for a pack of cards. “My mum does now finally have a child she can take shopping for clothes and doll up in the evenings, so there is that.”

“Right,” Remus said delicately, and he watched as Sirius carded through his elegant black locks and fluttered his eyelashes. Remus privately thought his body was a bit too muscular and his facial features too square to pull off the androgynous look, but he supposed there was no harm in trying.

“Exploding snap?” James said, already sinking down onto the compartment floor with his deck of cards. Peter scrambled to get there too, eyes alight with almost undue excitement considering how often they played cards. Remus hesitated but then he moved down, too, catching Sirius’s eye as he did. He looked inscrutable, but there was a flicker in his eye of something that worried Remus, even though he was too slow to identify what it was. 

“How were the Madagascar girls, Remus?” Sirius asked, voice low and almost knowing, as if he’d been reading Remus’s mind all along. Remus struggled to keep his features neutral, realizing that this wasn’t something he wanted to share. James dealt for three, watching Remus all the while.

“Same as everywhere, I imagine,” Remus said evenly, hoping the others wouldn’t notice how red his face got underneath the tan and the freckles. He thought Sirius saw through it, but James mercifully began the game and pulled away the attention from Remus. Sirius kept watching Remus rather than the game, though, and Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.


	17. Spread the word around, guess who's back in town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back In Town".

“We need to add the powdered thestral hoof to the potion tonight, because Lambeth’s scheduled quidditch training every evening for the rest of the week,” James explained to the others, his own excitement momentarily dulled as he watched Sirius’s face fall. “It’s to get us back in shape after the Christmas foods, it’ll be back to normal next week, no doubt,” James continued. Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and stared arrogantly at James, eyes now hard as steel. 

“Are we sure the potion’s matured properly?” Remus asked tentatively.

“Unless you’ve fucked it up, sending bad vibes all the way from Antananarivo, it should be fine. Me and James brewed it together.” Sirius’s sharp eyes swivelled over Remus, both face and body like he was checking out a girl. James frowned.

“Stop being rude, mate, we’re going to be skeletons tonight,” James said, trying to both be fair and to lift the mood. Peter looked quite worried at the notion and Remus still looked a bit put out after what Sirius had said to him. 

Sirius walked over to Peter’s bed and bent down, searching underneath it.

“Why did you hide it underneath my bed?” Peter asked. 

“We hide everything underneath your bed,” Sirius said, voice a bit muffled as he hauled out the small cauldron perched on purple flames. “Marijuana, that purple bludger we think contains explosives, James’s collection of dildos, my collection of empty Firewhisky bottles, Moony’s collection of second-hand Kafka novels, Padfoot’s fanged frisbee…”

“Why would you do that? What if a Professor came in to check what we’re hiding?” Peter said with a whine.

“You make an excellent point,” Sirius said, meeting James’s eyes with a smug and slightly mean grin. 

“Here’s the powder,” James said, clapping Peter on the shoulder in a friendly fashion as he dug through his pocket with his other hand, coming up with the tiny glass bottle that contained the stolen ingredient. Sirius snatched it from his hand and held it up against the light, then opened it and had a sniff.

“Careful,” Remus said, and Sirius gave him a look that actually made him blush. James looked from one to the other, trying not to laugh. 

“I think it said you’re supposed to wet a finger in your mouth, then put it into the powder, then put it into the potion,” James said.

“That sounds indecent,” Remus said at the same time as Sirius said: “How cool is that?”

They all watched as Sirius licked a finger (he obviously had to make it into an R-rated show) and then stick it into the bottle, getting the powder to stick to it. Then he dramatically stuck the finger into the cauldron, the surface of the potion shivering, and they all watched as Sirius pretended it was scalding hot and that he was burning his finger off. Peter fell for it, to nobody’s surprise. 

The potion was now a ghostly white and the surface kept billowing, making shapes that suggested there were bones just underneath the liquid membrane. 

“Now remember, after we drink this we won’t be able to talk properly for the duration of an hour, as we won’t be anything but skeletons. Peter and I are going to go for a walk, see if we can sneak up on anybody in the corridors. Patil and Oakwood from Ravenclaw are on patrol duty, so we’ll try to find them, rattle our bones a bit for them. Sirius and Remus, you’re going to scare the shit out of the other boys in the dormitory. And if Sirius can do Padfoot as a skeleton, you can go visit the girls, too. Just change back when you’re up there, better not let anyone see the dog, even as a skeleton.”

James fell silent and looked from one to the other. Sirius looked just as eager as he was himself, Peter looked scared and Remus resigned. 

“One hour and then we’ll change back?” Remus asked. James nodded. 

They all had a drink.

James tried to say ‘fuck’, but it only made his teeth chatter. It was fucking odd, though. He was somewhat aware of what was happening, but he couldn’t really see properly. It was almost like trying to exist without his glasses, but less colour. His limbs seemed to be working, though, as he tentatively put one foot in front of the other. He was still wearing his clothes. Minor drawback. A skeleton in Hogwarts robes might not be quite as fearsome as a naked one. Once he changed back into a full boy, though…

He tried to focus on the other three, and he could tell which was which based on height. Peter was a lot shorter than the rest and Sirius was a little bit taller than Remus. They were all skeletons, too, wearing robes. And shoes. 

James began walking towards the dormitory door. He couldn’t really hear like he normally could, he realized, and the smell of snow and Bertie Bott’s beans and smelly quidditch gear was all but gone, too. Being a skeleton was really fucking weird.

Pushing open a door was strange, with just white, brittle fingers and knuckles. The smallest skeleton was following him, rattling as he went, and James wondered if he was shaking with fright. Poor Peter. James would take care of him, though. 

James took the stairs with utmost care; it was strange how fragile his body felt, all of a sudden. He didn’t want to consider what would happen if he damaged any of his bones while in this condition. Suddenly Remus’s reluctance to go along with this made a lot more sense.

He stopped triumphantly in the middle of the common room, though. The rest of his quidditch team was still there, along with a few other students. Including Lily Evans. This meant an immediate change of plan, and James began walking towards her, opening his arms as he went, wondering if she could be persuaded to hug a skeleton.

There was a lot of screaming. Some of the students just up and fled, others actually began digging for their wands to defend themselves.

Lily shouted something that might have been “James Potter!”, straight at him, and it made him stop. There were several wands pointed at him, now, and he was teetering between worry about how the other student might try to hex him, and pure bliss. Lily Evans was able to recognize him even in his most basic, stripped back form. 

He thought the hostile atmosphere changed, and suddenly there was even vibrations in the air he thought were laughter. Aisling O'Doherty, one of the Gryffindor beaters, was suddenly close enough to James that he was able to recognize her, and she was waving and laughing. Then she took him and began steering him towards the portrait hole. James thought she might be touching his arms and back, although he couldn’t be sure as his senses were barely there anymore. Someone else was steering Peter, it seemed, and soon they were being helped out the portrait hole. So much for the change of plan, then. 

After that James and Peter roamed the corridors, followed by the rest of Gryffindor’s quidditch team and also Marlene McKinnon, another of the girls in their year. James had a feeling they maybe weren’t as fearsome as they had planned to be, a pair of skeletons in school uniform followed by a gaggle of overexcited students. The evening was well worth it, though, when they ran into the Fat Friar and Nearly Headless Nick, both of whom stopped in wonder and tried to ask them who they were. The Fat Friar quickly became convinced that Peter was a fellow monk called Clodric he’d once known in a cloister in Holstein. Said monk had apparently been caught doing something unspeakable with four choirboys, and the Fat Friar had not seen him since. James thought it made for a great anecdote.

Peter decided he’d had enough sometime around the climax of the anecdote, and James reluctantly followed him back towards Gryffindor Tower. His quidditch team and Marlene McKinnon were following them too, actually overtaking them at a run when the House ghosts began asking them questions about why they were all out of bed, consorting with disgraced and long since deceased men of the cloth. James supposed it was a valid concern.

They were right by the portrait hole as they suddenly began changing back, James a few seconds before Peter. The noise (James quickly got his full hearing back) was disgusting; it sounded like wet pieces of meat were being slabbed onto a hard surface. Fortunately, it was quick and mostly pain free. James looked appreciatively down at his skin, the flesh and muscle underneath it, and realized as he checked everything was back to the way it should be that he had been wearing his glasses this whole time. That would explain how Evans had recognized him. Or maybe she had just gone by the spark of electricity that was always present between the two of them. 

James took a round of applause in the common room from his quidditch team, they all said he was daft, but they looked suitably impressed so he didn’t really listen. Peter looked unbelievably relieved to have his flesh back, even the extra weight around his belly. James caught him squeezing that part of his anatomy along with a tender whisper of “we’ll never be parted again, I promise”.

Evans had unfortunately gone to bed and so James sighed and headed for the Marauder’s dormitory. It just meant it wasn’t meant to be tonight. 

They had barely entered their dormitory when Remus stalked in, completely starkers and bright red in the face. He was covering his groin with one hand, his hip with the other.

James just about died laughing, flopping down on his bed to watch this play out. Sirius entered, equally nude, and he wasn’t covering anything up, as per usual. Remus had already hidden himself underneath the covers of his bed.

“What happened?” Peter had sat down at the edge of Moony’s bed and was tentatively touching a lump that was probably his foot.

“Sirius managed to non-verbally disrobe me. As a skeleton.” Remus’s voice was nothing short of traumatized.

James gave Sirius a thumbs-up, then grimaced and looked away as he noticed that he was half-hard. Probably meant that they’d gotten into the girl’s dormitory. Or just that his best mate was a horny bastard, and likely an exhibitionist as well. 

“I thought we looked a bit silly, skeletons in school robes. It was freeing to run about completely naked, wasn’t it, Moony?”

“No,” came Remus’s mortified response from underneath the covers. James had a laugh and dared a look in Sirius’s direction. He had pants on now, so all was well.

“We gave the Gryffindors a warm welcome-back,” Sirius said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, scared the firsties good and proper.”

“You mean they saw Moony’s dick?”

Sirius’s reply was drowned out by Remus’s howl of misery and Peter’s laughter. Sirius smirked and flung himself down on James’s bed.

“Did you meet anyone?” Sirius asked him.

“Yep. Evans. McKinnon. The quidditch team. Oh, and Nick and the Fat Friar. Think they were out on a romantic evening stroll in the mirror corridor.”

“Makes sense,” Sirius said. 

“Well, this was a good night,” said James happily, stretching where he lay across his bed. He was getting tired now, and there would be classes in a few hours.

“A good night was had by all,” Sirius agreed, laying down next to him. Peter had gone to brush his teeth and Remus was still in hiding. James closed his eyes for what was supposed to be just a second, falling asleep still dressed and draped the wrong way over his bed.


	18. The only one who could ever reach me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacherman".

How was he supposed to look the first year Gryffindor boys in the eye after a night like this? Bloody Sirius and his aptitude with non-verbal magic. 

Remus stared unhappily at his worn shoes, which were sticking out from underneath his new, second- or more likely third-hand robes. He’d grown a bit in the autumn, and his parents had given him what they had to go get himself new robes in Madam Malkins before the Madagascar trip. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that what they’d given him wasn’t nearly enough to cover a new set of school robes. His new third-hand robes were too big for him, but that had been sub-consciously on purpose. Remus liked to remain hidden as much as he could. 

“Remus, what are you doing?”

Remus started; his head snatched up from where it had been buried in his hands. Lily Evans was standing in front of him, hands on hips and a concerned and vaguely amused smile on her face.

“It wasn’t me,” he said uncomfortably, and she raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested she didn’t believe him.

“We’re supposed to be patrolling the corridors, not examining our knees or whatever it is you’re up to.”

“Right,” Remus agreed readily, scrambling on his wobbly limbs to get up on his feet. He was a bit uncoordinated, as a rule.

“Were you a skeleton last night?” Lily asked him, her almost-smile continuing to tug at the corners of her mouth. Remus shivered uncomfortably. They were out of the portrait hole by now, walking through a deserted corridor at a leisurely pace.

“What makes you say that?” he asked her, keeping his voice light. On the inside he was screaming.

“It’s quite a complicated potion,” Lily continued.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you could never have made it.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, almost tripping over a suit of armour. To be fair, it had stuck out its leg to trip him up, so it wasn’t really his fault.

“No, I mean you’re shite at potion-making. Just no good at all.”

“It’s a pleasure talking to you, too,” Remus said vaguely. She wasn’t wrong, though.

“Which means you can’t have had any idea if those two knobheads had made the potion correctly or not just by looking at it. I looked it up, and it’s a really difficult one, not to mention the ingredients are expensive enough you could buy a one-room flat in London with that kind of money. Zone four at least.”

“Wow,” Remus said uncomfortably, suddenly finding yet another reason why he wished he hadn’t participated in the potion-drinking with the others last night. “How come you know so much about London property prices?”

“My sister’s going to uni there,” Lily explained. She was watching his face intently and he hated the feeling of being scrutinized. “She’s a bit of a cunt. She’s made fun of me for years because I’ve been studying in a castle in Scotland, she says I think Manchester’s not good enough for me anymore. Then, last September, she fucks off to London to study. Absolute hypocrite, she is.”

“Ah,” Remus said uncomfortably.

“There was a page-long warning in _Moste Potente Potions_ about what might happen to the drinker if that potion you boys drank was brewed the wrong way. Long story short, you might’ve ended up with horns.”

Remus hid a smile behind his hand, unsuccessfully.

“Quit laughing, you pillock! Horns, Remus, horns! Not erections, I mean, but like bony things poking out of your head. Permanently. It wouldn’t have been a good look on you, trust me on this. It also said there’s been one time when the drinker of that potion, in its mis-brewed state, permanently lost most of their senses. Deaf, blind and dumb. Bit like Potter, really, but it would’ve been a shame if that’d happened to you too, don’t you think?”

Remus nodded and gave Lily a small smile. She was looking quite concerned, still. 

“Why do you trust them blindly?”

Remus looked down, catching sight of his shoes again as he put one foot in front of the other. The thousand galleon question, wasn’t it?

“Potter and Black are more reckless and arrogant than a pair of hippogriffs on a cocaine bender.”

“I’ll tell them you said that,” Remus said, struggling not to laugh again. 

There was the sound of a door closing, and both prefects wheeled around. It was the door to the astronomy tower, which was such an infamous spot for midnight snogging that it was very rarely used for that purpose anymore, other than as a punchline to a joke. This time there was a girl coming out of there, however, and she was surreptitiously wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

Lily’s wand was suddenly glaring with light, and Remus recognized the girl as the rather timid reserve-keeper for Gryffindor. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Lily said reluctantly and began walking towards the door to the tower. The girl muttered something under her breath and began walking away from them. As fifth-years it felt strange to take points from older students, although Remus had a feeling Lily wasn't as easily bothered by that as he was. 

Remus followed Lily up the winding staircase all the way to another door, which had been left open. It was snowing outside, the skies overcast. He wasn’t particularly surprised when the light from Lily’s wand hit upon Sirius, fag in hand and dressed in rumpled muggle clothes. 

“Really?” Remus said anyway, mainly because Sirius raised an eyebrow at him as if he was the one who was doing something inadvisable. 

“Yes, really, Black,” Lily said, “it’s bloody freezing out here, why are you outdoors getting your dick sucked?”

Remus couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling over this time, although unfortunately it came out rather high and breathless. 

“What makes you think I was getting my dick sucked?” Sirius asked, not a hint of laughter in his eyes or around his mouth. There was a tell-tale crinkle in his nose, though, but Remus doubted Lily knew him well enough to spot that.

“You’ve got spunk on your trousers,” Lily told him impassively, and Sirius looked down at himself with an annoyed groan. Remus looked too, then realized from Lily’s smug little “hmm” that they had been tricked. 

“Yeah, I thought so. Ten points from Gryffindor for dicksucking, then, and five for smoking.”

“That makes it sound as if I’m the one who’s been doing the sucking,” Sirius protested.

“Same difference, as far as I’m concerned,” Lily said brightly. “We’ll see what I tell McGonagall if she asks why you lost us points. Phrasing is everything, I quite agree.”

Sirius gave Remus an exasperated look, but he just shrugged, trying to look innocent and commiserating rather than delighted. Serves him right for yesterday. 

“I thought you were in the dorm with Peter,” Remus said instead, watching Sirius take out his wand and non-verbally vanish the cigarette butt. “I thought he needed help with the Transfiguration essay.”

“Got bored,” Sirius said, a response Remus should have been able to predict. “Prongs has extra chaser practice or some such rot after the normal practice, and you of course are off being an upstanding citizen. Only so much one-on-one time with Peter I can take.”

“You’re incredibly rude to poor Peter,” Lily said sharply. Remus flinched. She wasn’t wrong, yet again. 

“You can fuck right off,” Sirius told her, temper rising out of nowhere like it sometimes did. Remus grabbed hold of him, which went against all his better judgement. He hated touching people, and on top of that an angry Sirius was a scary and violent Sirius. 

“Better take him back to your dormitory, I’ll lock up here and finish our rounds by myself,” Lily said icily and opened the door to the astronomy tower for them. 

Remus held onto Sirius’s arm and led him through, his heart thumping wildly in his chest all the while. Sirius went surprisingly willingly.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked him reluctantly, almost stumbling over his own robes and falling headfirst downstairs. Sirius caught him around his upper arms, holding on until he was stable again. 

Remus shuddered and stared down. The stairs stretched down into darkness, too far down to see where they ended. Sirius had loosened his grip but was still looking at him.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked him again, finally facing Sirius. His mate was watching his lips, maybe how they moved as he talked. He was frowning. 

Remus cleared his throat, anxiety prickling at the back of his neck, telling him to run. Sirius looked into his eyes, then, looking annoyed as if Remus had somehow interrupted him. Remus shrank into the wall.

“I’m alright, yeah. Corintha didn’t swallow, though, and girls usually do.”

“Right,” Remus said, struggling to come up with anything else to say. Sirius’s eyes were really intense as they bored into his, but that wasn’t new. 

“I know it’s up to them what they do, what they’re comfortable with. So don’t give me that lecture. Already had it with James’s mum of all people. I’m her son now, you see. Finally have someone who’ll…”

Sirius swallowed the rest down, and his eyes looked endless, for a moment, like that overcast sky they had just left behind.

“So don’t give me that lecture.”

“Alright,” Remus said weakly. He really needed to look away from Sirius’s eyes now, but he felt completely caught, trapped in an invisible net his stupid brain had made for him. 

“Alright,” Sirius said, releasing him from his grip, from the wall, from his imaginary trappings. Remus drew breath like a new-born, and he did feel like screaming, too. Sirius gave him a worried glance, then took a couple steps down before he held out his hand towards Remus. 

“Fucking chivalry,” Remus mumbled, and at that a genuine smile blossomed across Sirius’s features. 

“Only reason I’m with you,” Sirius said, a bit cryptically, reaching his hand further towards Remus. 

“That’s lightyears away from the truth,” Remus guessed, trying to gain his footing. 

“You calling me a liar?” 

Remus shook his head, looking at Sirius’s hand, then at his eyes.

“I’m calling you brave.” Then he took it.


	19. Workin' on mysteries without any clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Night Moves" by Bob Seger.

After having spent a productive morning cheering James on at the Gryffindor team’s practice (he didn’t quite stay to the end, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?), Peter went in search of Remus. To nobody’s surprise, he found him in the library, writing conscientiously and offering they write their Transfiguration essays together. Peter wasn’t sure why he bothered without both James and Sirius, they really needed at least one of them for this essay if they didn’t want to spend the whole day buried in research. They were supposed to start working on vanishing spells and there was a lot of theory to get through first. A lot. Remus had already bitten two of his fingernails to the quick and looked as if the others were likely goners, too. It was a difficult subject to be sure.

Peter thanked his friend graciously and then he scurried off, burying that bad conscience that was telling him he should’ve stayed. Not just because not staying meant he still had to write that essay in the future, but because not staying meant that he wasn’t there for Remus, meant that Remus had to write it alone. 

Peter got side-tracked on the way to the common room when he spotted something from the corner of his eye, a small head of dark hair that pulled up at the sides of her face like angel wings, a mouth that was quirked into a secretive smile that felt like it was only for Peter, the flash of dark eyes he would very much like to drown in…

Peter stopped in the middle of the corridor, someone else immediately walking into him from behind, forcing him to apologize for his sudden stop. When he had freed himself and could turn to look, she was already walking away from him, her small form halfway across the Charms corridor, perhaps off to see Flitwick about an essay on the weekend… Peter took an awkward step towards the Charms corridor, then he stopped again. He couldn’t stand outside Flitwick’s office and wait like a creep until she came out, could he? He’d need to say something then, either to her or to Flitwick. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her.

Sighing heavily, he turned on his heel again and snuck in behind a tapestry of some thestrals. At least he’d been told they were thestrals, he couldn’t actually see anything but an ominous forest in the tapestry. 

Peter turned rat, simple as that, then he ran off on quick, tiny little paws, down down towards his favourite part of the castle, outside of his own dormitory of course. He emerged victoriously from the kitchens fifteen minutes later, carrying a silver platter with thick slices of swiss roll and fat, cream-filled chocolate éclairs, his spirits much improved. Besides, James’s quidditch practice must be over by now.

Peter climbed through the portrait hole, having deposited the small platter on an ornamental, spindly table just outside (the Fat Lady had tried to tell him off for it, but when he had explained that he was having chocolate éclairs she had seemed to understand. He still had one left, now. Might even give it to James if he saw him.) 

James was nowhere to be found, although some other Gryffindor’s on the team were in the common room. Peter headed for the dormitory, thinking that the missing Marauders were all likely to be there. 

Peter stuffed the last éclair into his mouth before he entered the dormitory. He had already closed the door behind him when he realized that there were small moans coming from Sirius’s bed, and it wasn’t Sirius making them. Peter wasn’t necessarily proud of what he did next, but he was scared and as such acted instinctively (he told himself afterwards). Wormtail the rat could hear the moans, too, along with some indecent wet noises he couldn’t quite place. Unfortunately, the action was happening on the side of the bed that was further away from the door. Curiosity triumphed over fear, and Peter scuttled off noiselessly along the wall, going all the way around the room until he could climb onto his own bedside table, which had a perfect view of the right side of Sirius’s bed. 

Peeking out behind the pile of chocolate frog cards, Peter was able to observe Sirius and Corintha Shacklebolt, a timid sixth year who was the reserve keeper for Gryffindor. Peter the rat was transfixed, staying absolutely still and quiet, which was surprisingly difficult as the rat wanted to tremble and twitch at the best of times. 

Sirius was on the floor, naked and on all fours, which looked quite undignified to Peter. But he wasn’t complaining as he could see most of Corintha this way. She was sitting at the edge of his bed, equally nude, legs spread and with his head almost stationary in between them. Her chest was heaving, small black nipples pebbled and eye-catching. It went on like that for several minutes, her breath hitching and her breasts occasionally jiggling. Peter almost grew bored with the lack of action. Then Sirius lifted his arms to her thighs, stroking and spreading her even wider and looking as if he was pressing his face further into her. Her hands began to card agitatedly through his hair, back curved towards him, and her eyes clenched shut. To Peter, she looked almost in pain, as if she was struggling quite desperately with something. The moans grew marginally louder and then her shiny dark thighs and belly and breasts quivered like they were made of half-set crème brûlée, and Peter watched as she moaned and pushed Sirius’s head repeatedly onto herself with the aid of his hair before falling back heavily onto the bed. 

“Can I fuck you?” Sirius was getting up from the floor with surprising grace and ease, Peter knew for certain that his own knees would never have put up with a prolonged stay on the floor.

There was an answer in the affirmative and Peter could hear a spell or two being cast before Sirius climbed on top of her, kissing her on the face and neck and even in her hair. They tangled together for some time, rolling around and giving Peter a wonderful view of Corintha’s athletic behind. Then she straddled him with his back on the mattress, her back straight and her shoulders pushed back and for a moment she looked as if she was seated on a throne. Peter wished he had been closer so that he could have seen exactly where Sirius’s prick went. It went in in one smooth go, though, and then her muscular thighs set to work riding him, Peter looking on jealously. It didn’t seem as if Sirius had to do much work at all, he could just lie there and tell the beautiful witch how sexy she was and fondle her tits when he felt like it. Even Peter could have done that much, he’d like to think. Although he admittedly wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do had he found himself with his face between a witch’s legs, maybe that was something he should ask Sirius about. Maybe that was expected of you once you got to shag someone. 

Sirius took hold of her hips, keeping her steady as she stilled above him, then began fucking up fast and hard until he arched and let loose and gave up a raw shout. Corintha rocked on top of him a little longer, then she stopped too. She stayed there, though, giggling a little and talking quietly with Sirius. Peter yet again wished he’d been a bit closer; this was another thing he could have done with a hint or two in. What on earth were you supposed to say to someone after you had shagged them? They were laughing and kissing, now, both supremely unbothered by everything. Unlike Peter.

When she finally got up, Peter stared in fascination at the inside of her thighs, which were heavy with white stuff, made extra noticeable by her dark skin. Sirius had, it would seem, noticed the same thing, because he dug out a worn bit of flannel from somewhere and stuck it between her legs, cleaning up the evidence of their act. He placed a final kiss on her hipbone and then she was slipping back into her robes. 

Sirius didn’t bother with clothes and walked off to the showers in the nude and Corintha gave his retreating back a lingering look before she, too, left the room. Peter waited until he could hear the water from the shower and then he jumped into bed and transformed. He was rock hard and his hands fumbled as he closed the curtain around his bed. This shouldn’t take too long.


	20. I don't give a damn about my bad reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett.

The first week back at Hogwarts hadn’t been nearly as good as Sirius had expected it to be. He’d been prepared for a week of non-stop pranks and all the attention he could ask for from James and from Remus. And what had he gotten? One prank, days filled with boring lectures, a telling-off by Evans, a mind-numbing essay in Transfiguration on a subject that was a piece of cake and quality time with bloody Peter. James had quidditch all the time and Remus had gone into prime Moony-neurotics and seemed to seek out his own company rather than Sirius’s. Sirius was bored out of his mind. 

He dragged Polly Petronius into a classroom in the Transfiguration corridor. He was too wound up to go further to find a less risky part of the castle, and the door had barely swung shut behind him before he was pawing at her and trying to kiss her. It was noisy, both of their panting and breathing, lips smacking, and then the back of her thighs hit the nearest desk and almost made it topple over. She giggled and leant back, then let her hands roam over him, feeling up his arms and chest and stomach. Sirius was busy with her waist and tits, there seemed to be an enticing disparity in size between them and he stroked up and down, cupping and squeezing. 

She took off his robes, leaving him in his underwear and shoes, and he did her the same curtesy. Her bra and knickers didn’t match, the knickers were of a comfy bright cotton and the bra looked intricate and expensive and was black. Sirius put his hands either side of her tiny, pinched waist and kissed her deeply. She tasted good. Her hand was feeling him up, stroking his erection through his underwear. He wriggled one hand into her bra and was met with soft, hot skin and the alluring, jelly-like consistency of her breast. He sucked on the side of her mouth so that he could hear her moan. She wasn’t loud, but they were coming out in eager gasps and she was pulling on his erection, pulling it towards her groin. Her legs closed around him as she sat down on the desk, her plimsols rubbed harshly on the back of his thighs as she urged him even closer. He had a good hold of her left breast now, it was coming out into the open, he was pulling it up over the cup of her bra…

The door slammed open and a chilly breeze hit the back of Sirius’s back, along with an angry half-shout of “Mr Black!”

Sirius found himself wondering how Professor McGonagall was able to recognize his half-naked back more or less instantly as he awkwardly relinquished Polly’s breast and bent down to grab their robes instead. He’d been so close to seeing her tits, this was really rather annoying.

“Miss Petronius, is it? I really expected better of both of you. 20 points from Gryffindor and 20 points from Ravenclaw.” Even though Sirius had his back to Professor McGonagall he could see in his mind’s eye how her nostrils must be flaring right this moment; her mouth a thin, pinched line.

“Won’t happen again, Professor,” Polly said, robe back on and cheeks crimson as she scuttled out of the classroom. 

“A word, Mr Black,” McGonagall continued as Sirius finally turned to her, robe on and having adjusted his wilting hardon to lie flat against his hip with the aid of the lining of his pants. So annoying. “My office,” she continued impatiently as he smoothed out his hair (rather unnecessarily, it turned out, it had fallen into place nicely by itself). Sirius gave her a nonchalant half-smile; which made her nostrils flare, probably for the second time during this interaction. He moved towards her and followed her to the end of the corridor and to her office. Her tartan nightgown billowed behind her, and he was reminded of the similar tartan creation she had conjured up for him when she’d found him in Greenhouse 3 before Christmas. He’d been mid-intercourse then, and completely naked, so he supposed he could point out that this should be an improvement from her perspective. She stopped rather suddenly by her office door as if struck by a worrisome thought.

“Hands!” she said sharply, and Sirius eyed the wand in her hand with some trepidation. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, turning his palms up for her inspection. His hands shook, but it was marginal.

“Scourgify!”

She opened the door and he passed through, a surprising surge of relief rising to the surface of Sirius’s troubled mind.

“Sit,” she said as she got seated behind her desk. The chair Sirius got was uncomfortable and straight-backed, he always preferred it when he could lounge and lean in his chairs, and preferably tip the chair back on two legs, too. This one was too heavy for that.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” McGonagall said crisply. 

“We were bored,” Sirius said without hesitation. He certainly had been bored; James had had quidditch practice and Remus had gone AWOL. There was only so much time Sirius was willing to spend one on one with Peter. And he supposed Polly had been bored too, bored and horny. No other reason to have sex, was there?

“Fornication is not allowed on school property. You’re also underage.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes and tried to lean back on his unrelenting chair. He could not take one more talk about this, James’s mum had been one thing, but McGonagall was quite another. 

“If you’re bored, that raises the question of what we as your teachers can do to challenge you further and fill your time in school constructively. I think assigning you with an extra essay in Transfiguration will be fair for this transgression. Six feet, and you may choose your subject freely as long as it is something we’re studying in fifth year. If I, or any of the other staff, catch you in a similar position again you will hand in another essay.”

Sirius stared angrily at her, temper rising. 

“In that case it seems unfair that you took points from Gryffindor, Professor, if I’m to have another punishment. Or are you giving extra Transfiguration assignments to Polly as well?”

“This is the first time I’ve caught miss Petronius in such foolish behaviour. The same can’t be said for you, which leads me to believe that you need this more. Of course, I could arrange for you to have another one-on-one talk with Madam Pomfrey as well.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. Madam Pomfrey had curtly listed spells and potions to use to avoid unwanted diseases and pregnancies, which was something he had mastered years ago. Obviously. 

“I had hoped your parents would have had a chat with you about these matters,” McGonagall continued more delicately.

“I ran away from home during Christmas.”

“Pardon?” McGonagall looked genuinely surprised and Sirius again tried, and failed, to tip his chair back. Cursed McGonagall and her taste in furniture.

“I’m living with James until I come of age, his parents don’t mind,” Sirius said. He was almost surprised that she didn’t know already, but then he supposed that there was nobody who would have told the school. His parents would never get in touch and he supposed James’s parents hadn’t seen reason to do so, either. There was the _Daily Prophet_ article, but he knew plenty of people who boycotted the paper on principal.

“Are you alright, Mr Black?” For once McGonagall looked almost kind, and Sirius smiled nonchalantly and shrugged. “I’m glad you have a good place to live,” she continued musingly.

“Me too.”

“What were the reasons for your ‘running away’, as you put it? Is there anything the school needs to know about?”

“Don’t think so,” Sirius said, unable to stop himself from shifting uncomfortably. 

“It wasn’t the letter I sent your father, was it?” McGonagall said with that sudden clarity of vision that seemed to haunt her. 

“There were many reasons, Professor” Sirius said evasively. Part of him wanted to blurt it all out, make himself into a tragic hero. He hadn’t felt much like a tragic hero during Christmas, though, more like a pile of doxy droppings his parents had stepped on. 

“They didn’t – I mean, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” His Head of House suddenly looked a bit frightened, and Sirius didn’t miss the cursory glance up and down, as if she was worried she would suddenly see dreadful injuries through his robes.

“I’ve been patched up by Mrs Potter. All good.” 

Sirius stared determinedly at her, she looked worried and very uncomfortable with his half-confession. There was no way he was giving her any details. He rolled his neck, all bored and collected arrogance again, and the cracking from his bones was obscenely loud in the small and quiet office. 

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss with me? I’m here for you if –“

“I think I’ll write about the difficulties of transfiguring crups,” Sirius interrupted, rather louder than he had meant to. McGonagall closed her mouth, and it was an annoyed, thin line again. 

“That will do. Six feet to be handed in on Monday.”

“Fine,” Sirius said and got up gracefully from his chair. “Goodnight, Professor.”


	21. You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond".

There were two crups in the dormitory, but nobody had deigned to tell Remus why. As they were busy tearing up one of Sirius’s robes in an enthusiastic tug-of-war, he decided not to attempt any interaction with the two magical dogs quite yet, but instead settled down to watch. He did, however, close his own trunk first as his clothes certainly could do without more tears and frayed edges. 

Sirius and James appeared soon enough, hanging off each other and laughing obnoxiously loudly and with Peter trailing right behind them, a slice of tosca cake in his hand. 

“Kettleburn said they’re identical twins, Moony! Apparently, they were born with the same birth defect and consequently they wag their tails up and down rather than side to side.”

“Yes, I see, but why are they in our dorm?”

“Sirius is fixing them, or so he says.”

“Fixing them?” Remus echoed uncomfortably. “As in..?”

“Fixing their tails, you twat, not their bollocks. They can absolutely keep their virility as far as I’m concerned.”

“Right,” Remus said with provisional relief, giving the eager half-grown puppies another once-over. They were terrier-like in appearance, mostly a dirty white with light brown patches of fur in the exact same places. They had identical dark brown eyes that stared lovingly at Remus, and there was frothy drool by their pink gums and shiny teeth as they happily tore at the robe they had caught between themselves. There was an almighty sound of ripping, some excited growling, and suddenly both dogs stumbled backwards triumphantly, having managed to split the fabric in two. 

“Good boy, Skiffle! Puffle. That’s one the old hag paid for.”

Remus exchanged a horrified look with James, Peter was stuffing his mouth with more cake to make sure that he didn’t laugh out loud.

“Yeah, remind me to never let him name an animal again. Can you imagine what he would have named an owl had he had one? Or a cat?”

“Clawing, whiskery, bum-licking tail-twitchers, that’s what they are. Always with that fake purring as well, can’t stand the little psychotic rodent-torturers. Bendy sadists, the lot of them.”

“See?” James said meaningfully to Remus.

“Fanks,” Peter said, mouth full and apparently under the impression that Sirius had just shown him uncharacteristic kindness. Sirius stared at him with undisguised disgust until Peter squeaked, spraying cake out of his mouth, and went to cower at the edge of his bed. 

“How are you planning on ‘fixing’ their tails, then, Sirius?” Remus asked carefully.

“Dunno. Transfiguring a movement won’t be easy, will it? I suppose I could just transfigure the crups into cantaloupe melons instead, I’m sure I could do that well easy, and it’d be just as valid if you think about it. But I like a challenge, me, so that’s why I thought I’d go with the tail movement rather than the entire animal.”

Remus caught James’s eye over the head of their friend, currently wrestling with both of the franticly panting crup puppies, and James shrugged with the air of someone for whom life was becoming a bit too much. “I have no idea what he’s on about, but he’s definitely gone mad” James mouthed at him next. Remus nodded in comprehension. 

“How did you come to pick cantaloupe melons?” Peter asked courteously, licking his fingers to get the last crumbs of his tosca cake.

“Melons are nice, aren’t they?” Sirius said, making a crude gesture over his chest. 

James’s eyes glazed over and Remus thought he could almost see Lily Evans in a tight shirt flickering like film over James's hazel eyes. 

“What’s the plan after you’ve worked your magic in the field of Transfiguration?” Remus asked Sirius, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“If they’re still in crup-form, I say we set them on Snivellus. Transfigure his hair into bacon or something, shouldn’t take much effort. They’ll lick him silly and he might cry.”

Sirius paused for a second on the floor, lifting one of his puppies above himself and making a noise like he was flying the crup on a broomstick.

“If I end up with melons, I’ll either force-feed them to Peter, or I’ll steal one of McKinnon’s frocks and play dress-up.”

“What makes you think you’d ever have to force Peter to eat something?” James said, although Peter was shaking his head and looking terrified, eyes moving over the pair of cute, dog-like creatures scrambling over Sirius’s prone shape. 

“I could never eat you!” Peter whispered; eyes locked on one of the crups. It was looking right back at him, split tail wagging the wrong way and its eyes huge and loyal and innocent. 

“McKinnon barely has any tits, does she? Sure you can fit melons in one of her dresses?” James was looking at Sirius for confirmation and Remus felt his face heat up. Marlene was in all of their classes, a fellow Gryffindor, it didn’t feel right to…

“She’s sexy as all hell, doesn’t need them,” Sirius said, unexpectedly coming to Marlene’s recue. Sort of. “I’ll figure it out, you leave the women’s clothing to me. Might not happen, I’ll see if I can fix their tails, first. Maybe if I change the bone that attaches the tail to the rest of the body…”

Remus shuddered and looked away; Sirius had dug out his wand. 

“I’m going to go do the bowtruckle sketch Kettleburn asked us for,” Remus decided out loud, getting up and snatching his bag from the side of his bed in one unsmooth movement that almost made him topple over. Sirius was staring disappointedly at him, wand aloft over his doggy guinea pigs. Peter had stuffed his hands into his mouth (he was rather good at fitting things in there) and James was lazily cleaning his glasses.

Remus hurried out of the dormitory, not able to bear witness to the crups’ fate. He had his eyes set on a nice, secluded and completely unpopulated corner of the common room, but then he realized someone was calling his name repeatedly and he had to turn and look. Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon and Mary Macdonald were all seated by the fireplace, in the best armchairs, and what was more there was a free spot next to Lily, which she had apparently been keeping with her school bag. Remus’s heart sank and he plastered a smile onto his face as he cautiously made the trek through the common room towards the girls. 

“Bowtruckle?” Lily asked him briskly as he faltered, a few steps from the free armchair. 

“Yes,” Remus admitted reluctantly; he might as well.

“What’s Lennon, McCartney and Ringo up to?” Marlene asked him. She was laughing as she spoke, she usually was, and she was lounging about in an almost Sirius-like fashion in her armchair. 

Remus did not look at her chest.

“They’re transfiguring crups,” he explained, although he did realize this was not much of an explanation. Actually, he wouldn’t mind an explanation himself.

“Idiots,” Lily stated succinctly, and Mary nodded along next to her. Remus noticed that the latter kept shooting Marlene annoyed looks, as if she’d rather Marlene up and left, and it made Remus feel even more uncomfortable than before. “Everyone knows magical creatures are nigh impossible to transfigure.”

“Sirius has set rather high stakes for himself, so I’m sure he’ll give it a good go, at the very least,” Remus volunteered quietly. Marlene stretched out at the mention of Sirius, she was wearing muggle clothes and her top was riding up precariously over her toned stomach…

Remus busied himself with dipping his quill into ink, then looking for the correct book in his bag. He’d just copy the picture of the bowtruckle that was in there, no reason to get excessively creative. He got lost in his drawing, barely registering as Lily and Mary chatted amongst themselves, or as Tony Lambeth, Gryffindor’s quidditch captain, came over and began snogging Marlene in her armchair. 

“What the absolute, blithering FUCK, Black?”

Remus was wrenched out of his finishing touches (he’d spent too long on detailing the bowtruckle’s feet, he always got caught up in unnecessary details like that) by Marlene’s loud and almost ecstatic shriek. Remus stared at his good friend of five years with some disbelief, reluctant smile breaking out over his features. 

Sirius was in a pale blue dress and white platform shoes, his hair wavy around his head and pulled to the side by a glittering sapphire pin. He was wearing pale pink lipstick and a lot of mascara, but it had been applied with disconcerting expertise. He hadn’t shaved, which made it all quite jarring. His tits, or rather his melons, were very large and shapely, though.

“Like my puppies?” he asked, hands not-so-innocently following the rounded shapes on his chest.

“Did James dare you or something? How much are you getting for this?” Marlene sounded more curious than anything.

“Nah, just felt like it was time to bust these out,” Sirius said with all the fake humility he could muster.

“Did he break into our dormitory?” Remus could hear Mary whisper, real terror in her voice, but she was ignored by all, except for Marlene who muttered something about a ‘wet blanket’. There was quite a crowd gathering, lots of Gryffindors congratulating Sirius on his new look or trying to cop a feel. Remus didn’t feel it was safe to look at Sirius anymore, but unfortunately Sirius was looking straight at him, devious smile on his thickly painted lips. 

“If I’d known you were this desperate for a fresh slap of paint I would’ve let you borrow my lipstick years ago,” Lily’s voice rang out, interrupting the rather one-sided staring contest Remus thought Sirius was having with him.

“Thanks, Evans, but this is all part of the research for an essay set to me by McGonagall.”

Remus huffed in disbelief and Sirius’s eyes were still twinkling dangerously for him.

“You’re stealing Marlene’s dress and my lipstick on Professor McGonagall’s orders?”

“Obviously. Take up any grievances you have with her, will you?”

There was some laughter and Remus ducked his head, clearing away his much-too-detailed bowtruckle sketch and his quill and ink.

“You coming upstairs, Remus?”

More laughter. Remus looked up, blushing before he even knew what for. Sirius’s hand was stretched out towards him again, and he had cocked a hip to give the illusion from underneath the dress that he had hips. It did look quite funny.

Remus smiled and took his hand.


	22. Let it never be said that romance is dead, 'cause there's so little else occupying my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Ruby" by the Kaiser Chiefs.

James swore as he had to duck an eyeball removing curse of Snivellus’s. Sirius bumped into him from the other side, whatever Mulciber had shot his way blew a sizeable hole in the rock wall behind them. Sirius shot something non-verbal that hit Mulciber, and James watched his hand change colour and medium-sized spring onions sprout from underneath his broad fingernails, distending and cracking them as Mulciber howled in fury… 

Snivellus, unfortunately, was also good at non-verbal magic. James had no idea what he was hit by, but the room turned upside down, he felt a jerk in his ankles and then he hit his chin on the stone ceiling above. It hurt a lot. Then his back was hit by a stinging hex.

“Boys, boys!”

Slughorn had apparently arrived on the scene. James groaned. His whole body spun at sickening speed and then his feet hit the ground again. Slughorn was holding his wand, everyone else appeared to have put theirs away. Well, not Mulciber, but he wasn’t really able to use his hands for anything but growing vegetables at the moment. The onions looked sprightly and strong. 

James could see Sirius, who had several bruises on his jaw and neck, and Snivellus, who was sporting a black eye. Good. 

“I say…” Slughorn paused, out of breath after what had apparently been an exertion for him. He looked unhappy, and James thought he knew why. Slughorn famously hated giving out detention, as it cut into his valuable free time. “I’ll have to take ten points from each of you,” Slughorn decided, and James could have hugged him for that. Ten points was nothing. “And no more duelling in the corridors, you hear me?”

“Yes, Professor Slughorn,” James said quickly, knowing full well that Sirius was scowling too hard to answer. Slughorn fixed the hole in the wall with a flamboyant wave of his wand.

“Hospital wing, if you please,” Slughorn continued, shepherding Mulciber and Snivellus in front of him. He was no doubt expecting James and Sirius to follow, too, but that was unlikely. They weren’t even badly hurt. 

“Nice hex on Mulciber,” James said, as quietly as he could, to Sirius. He got his wand back out and countered the effect of the stinging hex. Piece of cake. Then he turned his attention to Sirius, who looked as if he was ready to continue with their mission, apparently oblivious to the nasty bruises on his neck. It looked as if an ogre had tried to strangle him.

“I’ll get those for you,” James said, rifling through his overflowing pockets for the right little bottle. “Dittany,” he added, as Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. His mother had given him an opened bottle of the stuff to bring with. James had a feeling that she had noticed how often Sirius got into scrapes and needed to be patched up. She’d pretended it was for him, James, but he knew, really.

“Mother hen,” Sirius muttered, but he let James into his personal space to apply the healing tincture. 

“Want me to kiss it better, too?” James asked distractedly, spitting out some of Sirius’s fabulous hair from his mouth. He was trying to get close enough to aim the potion for just the injured bits of skin; every drop that hit a target smoked and sizzled.

“Sure. My dick’s been throbbing, too, could use your services there as well when you lips tire of my neck.”

“Tosser.” James screwed the cap back on and Sirius pretended to open the fly of his muggle trousers (he was wearing something tight and red and velour with a black glittery floral pattern. It was just a little bit over-the-top. Euphemia had a lot to answer for.)

James led the way past the Entrance Hall, discreetly looking around before they both crammed into the broom cupboard that was directly behind the Grand Staircase. 

“Sends me old heart aflutter, getting me, you and that sexy jumper into a broom cupboard without as much as a chaperone to keep us in line.”

“You keep your dirty hands off my jumper,” James said, although he did stick his chest out proudly. The bulrushes and cattails on his jumper were symbols of his team, Puddlemere United, and Sirius was permanently offended with the cattails and could be counted upon to change the designs of James’s various jumpers and scarves that contained the offending item whenever he left his clothes unattended.

“Apertum,” Sirius said, wand pointing down and drawing a quick circle in the air. James had to jump out of the way so as not to fall into the hole that suddenly appeared in the wooden floor of the broom cupboard. “Scaredy-cat,” Sirius continued teasingly, but he’d barely finished talking before James had managed to trip both his legs and made him fall through the hole. He laughed the whole way down (the hole opened into a slide) and James sent his best mate a fond thought before he, too, took the plunge. 

He landed in a cold, damp stone passageway, one of many that ran underneath the school. The Marauders had found six passageways that ran straight to Hogsmeade (plus the one Dumbledore had created that went from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack) and this was the quickest one. Sirius had already begun walking, wand still out and now shining a golden light into the spacious passage. There was brickwork all along the walls and ceiling on this side, but around half-way it ran into the mountain and there were several small offshoots that led into natural caves. 

They walked fast whilst discussing who would win in a fight (today’s edition was Hagrid the Groundskeeper versus Moony the Werewolf) and they would be blinking into the pale, winter sunlight behind the Three Broomsticks in no time. The passageway terminated inside an old potato cellar located in the medieval townhouse next to the pub, and there was a convenient peephole in the low, hatchlike door between the cellar and the back alley, so it was easy to check they weren’t spotted when they stepped out into Hogsmeade.

They walked into the Three Broomsticks arm in arm; it was cold and neither boy had brought a jacket.

“Madam Rosmerta, dearest,” Sirius began, but James quickly cut in:

“Where is our favourite bastion of fine mead and clever banter?”

“Right here, ducks,” Madam Rosmerta said, indulgent smile widening on her face. “What are you two troublemakers doing outside school grounds?”

“Troublemakers? I say!” James pressed a hand to his chest in half-hearted outrage. 

“When have we ever set out to cause trouble?” Sirius asked the room at large, gesturing his free hand dramatically while his other kept a firm grip on James’s arm. “Don’t give me that look, the knarls getting bottled up and finding their way behind the counter was an honest mistake anyone could’ve made! It was our first year studying magical creatures.”

“You say that, love, but all I know is that seven bottles of my exclusive Knotgrass Gin went missing and in their stead I got bottle upon bottle filled with those spiky, precious little things with mournful eyes. The bottles weren’t even sealed properly!”

“Of course we didn’t seal them up, we’re not animal torturers!”

“Well, I mean, _most_ of the time we’re not-“

“The little darlings were absolutely terrified of me after I got them out of the bottles you’d put them in. They positively growled when I tried to offer them food, I was scared they were going to go berserk in my bar. Had to enlist Hagrid in the end to reintroduce the lot into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Shame, that, we thought you might like a pet or seven.”

“Make sure you’re not lonely here on the nights we can’t visit.”

Madam Rosmerta smirked. 

“What brings you here today, then?”

“It’s Lily Evans’s birthday,” Sirius confided in a stage-whisper before James could respond. 

“Oh, _I see_ ,” Madam Rosmerta replied, and she and Sirius exchanged a disconcertingly meaningful look before they both turned to look at James. 

“Er, yeah. Well. We’re treating the Gryffindors to a casual soirée, you know, maybe a respectful toast to Lily’s health… All in good taste, of course.” 

“Of course,” Madam Rosmerta said, voice casual and her grin taunting. Her eyes were still kind, though, although perhaps a smidge too sympathetic. Sirius looked positively evil.

“Can we get a crate of butterbeer to go, please?” James asked.

“Sure thing, love. Colour me surprised that you haven’t even tried to buy Firewhisky off me today.”

“Can we buy some Firewhisky off you as well, please, Madam Rosmerta?” Sirius asked. Madam Rosmerta shook her head exasperatedly at him, and James dug out the money he owed her from his pockets. As he did, he could see Sirius mirroring his motions, as if he was about to get money out to pay for half. James saw his expression freeze as realization hit, and he gave his friend a commiserating pat on the shoulder. Not having his own money would take some time getting used to, no doubt. 

After a courteous and florid goodbye, the two excited, Sirius now carrying the massive crate which had been charmed to weigh almost nothing. James dug out some coins again and stuffed Sirius’s back pocket with them.

“You go get the Firewhisky from the Hog’s Head; I need to get Lily some chocolates.”

“Chocolates? How original,” Sirius sneered, but James shook that comment off. Surely everyone liked chocolate. He happened to know that Lily preferred dark and white chocolates over milk (he wasn’t a stalker or anything, but he did have quite extensive knowledge of her likes and dislikes by now.)

“Meet you by the potato cellar when we’re done,” he said instead, and set off towards Honeydukes.


	23. There she goes again, racing through my brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "There She Goes" by The La's.

Peter was in charge of collecting the birthday cake from the kitchens, and he and Remus set off after dinner. Lily’s birthday fell on a Friday this year, which was unusually fortunate. The Marauders (well, mainly James) had thrown her a party every year they’d gone to Hogwarts together. Or, to be perfectly honest, starting in second year they had thinly disguised it as generic get-togethers, as Lily openly disliked James and had made it clear that she did not wish for him to throw her a party. Last year she hadn’t even shown up to it at all.

They were having a party, though, even though nobody had been formally invited. And a party needed cake. Peter was very much on board with that.

The cake was massive, easily the size of the largest cauldron in the Potions classroom. It was much prettier, though, covered in cream with purple and green magical hundreds and thousands that sparkled and crackled. 

It was lucky they had the map; Peter really didn’t know how they would’ve made it back to Gryffindor Tower unobserved with the cake otherwise. The Marauder’s Map had been mostly complete for almost a year now, although they would occasionally add a new room or, on a memorable occasion, a whole floor to the map. (The floor between the fourth and the fifth floor had come as a bit of a surprise for them, and they were not entirely sure if anybody else knew it was there.) Peter was in charge of the levitation charm (it wouldn’t do if Moony were to trip while levitating the cake) and Remus kept an eye on the map as they travelled through the less populated corridors of the castle, through hidden tapestries and up concealed staircases, occasionally retreating into a disused classroom to hide if they saw someone coming their way on the map. 

“Made it!” Peter exclaimed proudly after he had crawled through the portrait hole (the Fat Lady had asked him if he didn’t think he was overdoing the sugar a bit. Diabetes type two wasn’t always possible to magically treat in wizards; she’d overheard Madam Pomfrey say as much. He had explained that the cake wasn’t all for him, but she hadn’t looked as if she believed him).

“Looks great!” James said, looking relieved as the cake found its place on the big table underneath the middle window. Still intact, still glittering as if it was covered in cut-up amethysts and emeralds.

A group of sixth years and lots of younger students were already in the Common Room and the first butterbeer bottles were being cracked open. There were several bowls of crisps scattered around the place, and also chopped raw vegetables and dip (maybe the house-elves were taking a stand on student health. Madam Pomfrey was on the warpath by the sounds of it). Peter beamed at James, hoping he could see how proud Peter was of him and his generosity and consideration. It took a special type of wizard to organize this sort of an event.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t spend the whole day with Snape like she did last year,” Remus said to Peter in an undertone. Remus was wearing his possibly only pair of school robes, which were worn and needlessly big. Peter tried not to sweep his eyes over them, tried not to judge. It was on the tip of his tongue to just tell him to order new ones and ask James to pay for them. James was a generous lad, after all.

“Do you reckon I should change into something else?” he asked instead, gesturing to his own school robes. Remus shrugged, looking mildly confused. “Just in case, I mean,” Peter continued vaguely, realizing as he spoke that he didn’t want to elaborate.

“You look fine,” Remus said kindly.

The Common Room began to fill up as word spread that there was butterbeer and cake, and soon there was music, too, as one of the older prefects brought down her muggle turntable and her collection of ABBA records. 

Peter dutifully had a few glugs of Firewhisky (James had hidden a bottle underneath the sofa cushions and insisted that all Marauders have some) and then butterbeer to wash it down. 

He spotted Pippa when she came down from her dormitory together with Greta Catchlove, another Gryffindor fourth year. Peter’s chest constricted as if he was choking on his first spliff and he spilt some butterbeer down his chin as he tried to drink to free up said tension. He wondered frantically what her view on his school robe might be. Would she think he looked fine, too? Would she prefer someone in colourful dayrobes, or maybe even someone in muggle clothes? Should Peter perhaps don a hat? 

Pippa’s hair stood out like a halo around her head and her small mouth was a vivid red… Peter took a few steps towards her, she and her friend were eyeing the, as yet untouched, cake with appreciative eyes, and his mind was a complete blank, nothing forthcoming, no amusing anecdotes, no compliments, no idea how to politely introduce himself. He stopped steps behind her, and he watched with some trepidation how two of the fourth-year boys came up to her and her friend. They talked mainly to Greta, to Peter’s great relief, she seemed bubbly and a bit overly friendly. Not all class, like Pippa. It would take a real connoisseur to appreciate her, not to mention someone smart and interesting to tickle Pippa’s fancy. Peter was confident of this, even though of course he still hadn’t ever spoken to her. 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is?”

Peter jumped to high heavens, spilling some butterbeer over his hand and twisting around. Lily was speaking, seemingly both to him and to Remus. Where Remus had come from Peter did not know, but he gave Peter a fond, almost commiserating smile before he turned to Lily. 

“It was suggested that today might be a good day for a party, what with it being Friday and all.”

“’And all?’” Lily repeated.

“Oh yeah, happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday,” Peter echoed, raising his bottle in an awkward half-toast as he wasn’t used to talking much to Lily. More used to talking _about_ Lily than to her. She was nodding her thanks, at least, but she didn’t look wholly pleased.

“I’ve come from the hospital wing. I heard Severus was there, so…” Lily threw a filthy look towards James and Sirius (who was wearing eyeliner), and Remus scraped his foot uncomfortably into the floor next to Peter. They had heard something about Snape and Mulciber ending up in the hospital wing after an ill-advised encounter with James and Sirius. No doubt it had been well-deserved, although Lily perhaps couldn’t be expected to see it that way.

“You’re still friends, then?” Peter asked her, a bit breathless. 

Lily glared at him for a few seconds, which left him plenty of time to reconsider ever having opened his mouth. 

“He’s my oldest friend,” she divulged, voice much softer than Peter expected it to be.

“But you’ve heard what…” Remus shivered and bit his tongue. Peter looked around, trying to catch sight of Mary Macdonald. Mulciber had attacked her last week, and rumour had it it was because she was muggleborn. James and Sirius had hexed Mulciber at least once per day since then, although they had been more discreet about it than they might have been. That was on account of Remus, who had had the foresight to explain that it would a) likely get them in trouble more easily than usual as Mulciber would be seething for revenge (he had received a whole month of detention) and b) Mary might not want more attention to be drawn to what had happened, seeing as she was rather a private girl. Peter had been plenty impressed by what Remus had said, and James and Sirius had largely kept to his recommendations. 

“Mary is my other best friend,” Lily said, a bit sharper now. 

“Sounds complicated,” Peter offered, and he got another glare for his trouble. In his defence it was complicated, a bit fucked-up really, to have those two as your best friends. Snape and Macdonald didn’t talk to each other, the only thing they had in common was the viciously funny red-headed birthday girl. Mary was a bit boring, according to everyone, but fundamentally a good sort. Peter detested Snape on principal, of course, but even if he hadn’t been trying to curse James and follow them around and attempt to get them all expelled at least once per year, Snape would still be part of a bad crowd. The Slytherin fifth years and seventh years all contained droves of students who were downright blood supremacists, and Snape was definitely on the fringes of that, maybe even headed towards the inner circle. Peter didn’t know much about politics, but he knew that was bad enough to deserve even James’s best flobberworm-in-your-nostril hex.

“Evans! Glad to see you here, why don’t you do the honours and start us on the cake?”

James was standing behind them, looking imploringly and almost shyly at Lily. Peter held his breath.

“Sure,” Lily said eventually. “You should’ve started on the cake yourselves, haven’t you noticed how everyone’s eyeing it like half-starved hyenas?”

“Ah,” James said eloquently, following Lily at a respectful distance as she headed for the cake. There were indeed lots of people hanging around the cake, presumably waiting for whoever was in charge to give them a sign that they could tuck in. They all parted for Lily.

“It’s raspberry-flavoured,” James told the back of her head. 

“I’m sure that the house-elves will have done an excellent job with it,” Lily said loudly. “They’re really good at what they do.” 

James seemed to struggle with what to say next, still staring wistfully at her long dark red hair as she cut through the cake and placed a large slice on a plate. Several of the older students were giggling and whispering to each other. Peter couldn’t really fault them; this had been happening for years already. Actually, as a rule there was a lot more cursing and hexing (from Lily), so in that sense this was an improvement on how things usually went.

“You did good, Prongs,” Peter told him quietly as Lily stalked off with her plate and the rest of the Gryffindors pounced on the cake.

“Raspberry’s her favourite,” James told him, trying to be quiet but likely he was overheard by a good quarter of the room. “And I got her chocolates and a bouquet of lilies. Already had Padfoot bring them up to her room underneath the cloak.”

“Good thinking,” Peter said and clapped him on the shoulder. Animals were able to go up the girls’ dormitory staircase just fine, but Prongs the deer wasn’t necessarily the ideal animal for missions that centred around stairclimbing. 

James sighed a bit forlornly and continued to stare at Lily, who was being congratulated and given presents by Marlene and Dotty and Azalea, the girls in their year. Mary wasn’t around, but nobody had seen her much since the incident.

Peter’s eyes found Pippa, still sitting with her friend, both now eating cake while they played chess by one of the windows. Peter found himself sighing in much the same way as James just had.


	24. Abused, confused, always love the one you hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Republica's "Ready to Go".

“If you’d just let me –" Sirius’s voice died in his throat at the upset and bright red face in front of him. 

Delia Fawcett gave a dignified sniff and then she turned around and started putting her clothes back on as quickly as possible. She put her robes on inside out but as Sirius opened his mouth to make her aware of her mistake, she swirled around on her heels to face him and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face was still quite red, and she glared pointedly at him.

“Same time next week?” Sirius said sarcastically and moved aside to let her pass. She strode out with her nose in the air, arms still crossed over her chest. Sirius was fuming now, too, wishing that she’d stayed so that he could have sorted her out properly and sent her back to Ravenclaw Tower happy. If he was unlucky, she’d tell her friends about his premature episode and it’d spread through Ravenclaw Tower. 

Sirius rather liked Ravenclaws as a rule, they were a bit up themselves, sometimes, but they weren’t all blood supremacists or overly likely to be closely related to him. After an incident in fourth year he did sometimes check, though, in particular if they had sharp cheekbones and grey eyes. 

The school was empty of people, but unfortunately several portraits were still awake, and none of the fun ones, either. He was told off several times for his tardy habits (they all seemed to know he was a repeat offender, and he wondered if Phineas Nigellus had somehow managed to poison the minds of his fellow portraits), and to cap it all nobody challenged him to a lancing competition.

Sirius ran into Peeves close to Gryffindor Tower, and as the poltergeist started screaming about “dark forces moving around the castle” he sent the tongue-tying curse Moony had found in one of his books at the poltergeist. Peeves resorted to using some mildly threatening sign language and Sirius’s bad mood reared. He sent a blasting curse at Peeves. The poltergeist fled into thin air, disappearing with an evil grin, and Sirius’s hex hit a large and fragile-looking vase, instead. It exploded spectacularly, and Sirius began to run as the noise he, the vase and the poltergeist had made was more than enough to lure Filch, Mrs Tattler the caretaker’s cat, or perhaps a professor or two his way. 

“Did you get detention or something?” James was grinning much too good-naturedly when Sirius burst through their dormitory door to find the other three on James’s bed, exploding snap cards spread over the sheets and the distinct smell of singed hair in the air. Peter’s eyebrows looked lopsided, but Sirius barely registered it through his defensive anger. 

“No, I got away in time. Blew up a vase on the fifth floor by mistake, though.” Sirius hesitated and calmed himself a little. The other three were looking expectantly at him. “I was with Fawcett from Ravenclaw.”

“Did she not let you shag her?” Peter giggled and Sirius sent him a murderous look. James was laughing tauntingly, and Remus was pretending to not be interested. There was a nerve pulling at the corner of his mouth and his thick pale eyelashes fluttered close for a second or two. Sirius sighed and sat down on James’s bed, too, leaning most of his body on James as there wasn’t enough room for him there. One of James’s cards was smoking, and Sirius stared warily at it.

“She did. I came before her and she wouldn’t let me finish her off, if you must know.” Sirius never blushed but he did stare intently at the cards rather than risk looking at any of the other Marauders. With his back on James’s stomach he could feel him laughing although his best mate was trying to be quiet about it. 

“How _do_ you finish girls off?” Peter piped up, sounding rather breathless. Sirius looked up and found that both Peter and Remus were a bit red in the face from the turn the conversation had taken. That restored Sirius’s self-esteem nicely and he found himself grinning as the tension in him began to melt away.

“You lick or rub around their clit until they come,” Sirius told him, and Peter looked as if this was a daunting prospect.

“What’s it taste like?” Peter asked and James let out a patronising laugh even though he had asked Sirius for similar details more than once.

“Really good. Dunno; alive and sticky and a bit salty.” Sirius tried to stretch his body despite the lack of legroom. He saw James teasingly mouth “alive?” at Remus, who was grinning back bashfully. 

“Do you mean to say you’ve learnt to distinguish it from the taste of blood by now?” James continued out loud, face the picture of innocence and Sirius tried to pinch him somewhere it would hurt. He got James’s inner thigh, which was satisfying enough, and almost got himself kicked out of the bed in the process.

“That’s years ago,” he tried to defend himself. Peter and Remus were looking expectantly at James.

“It’s one year ago, mate, don’t exaggerate. It’s a thrilling tale, don’t know why you’ve kept it from Wormtail and Moony. Anyway, Padfoot here came in one evening with his face and fingers covered in blood, apparently he’d walked happily through the school and the common room looking like he’d rubbed his face into a newly-slaughtered cow.”

Peter’s pretty blue eyes were big as saucers and he looked beyond confused. Remus buried his face in his hands.

“What’d happened?” Peter asked but James was now laughing too hard to continue. Sirius frowned and pinched James again to get rid of his embarrassment. 

“He must’ve given oral pleasure to a girl on her period,” Remus explained patiently to Peter, who yelped with disgust at the mention of periods. 

“’Oral pleasure’?” Sirius repeated in an attempt to suggest that Remus was the one who ought to be laughed at for his vocabulary rather than Sirius for an innocent mistake he’d made _years ago_. It didn’t work.

“How could you not notice that?” Remus continued over the gagging noises Peter was producing. 

“It was pitch dark, we were in a broom cupboard,” Sirius said reluctantly. “Some girls have a stronger flavour and get really, really wet. Anyone could’ve made that mistake.”

“Merlin’s beard, that’s gross,” Peter whispered. 

“It was late at night, too, so I don’t think anyone except for James actually saw me,” Sirius continued nonchalantly and all four ducked their heads as the pile of cards in the middle exploded. 

“Maybe Fawcett was on her period, too?” Remus suggested soothingly. Going by his tone he must have thought Sirius was truly upset that he hadn’t gotten to eat her out. And he supposed he sort of was, too.

“In that case my dick would be covered in blood rather than in her nice juices,” Sirius said as he absentmindedly scratched his groin. It was a bit itchy and he should probably go clean up. 

“You’re so fucking gross,” James told him brightly and Peter and Remus looked quite appalled with him.

“Right, shower,” Sirius agreed and got up as gracefully as he could from his awkward recline on James. 

When he got back the cards were all lying in a smouldering pile in the middle, it looked as if they had exploded again. Sirius put on pants and a T-Rex t-shirt and curled up anew into James. He’d never admit it, but he was becoming addicted to the hugs James bestowed upon him. After years of craving to control who touched him and where, he was finally beginning to feel as if James could be let off that leash. A gesture that could be so utterly panic-inducing could also feel healthy and safe. Bellatrix could go stuff herself with a broken crystal ball, as far as Sirius was concerned.

Sirius’s gaze meandered over to Remus, who was sitting cross-legged wearing pyjamas on the foot end of the bed. Knobbly ankles stuck out of his pyjama bottoms and there were funny light hairs, same colour as his eyelashes, growing on the joint of his big toe. Mesmerizing how these were Remus’s feet. His toes curled endearingly as he watched them. 

It was something Sirius was slowly and almost reluctantly becoming aware of, the way his normally wandering eyes seemed to have locked in on a specific target. A target that was now patiently struggling through a last-minute explanation of the theory behind vanishing living creatures to Peter, although they all knew both James and Sirius knew more about it than Remus. 

Sirius was busy watching, though, and James was almost asleep, unbothered by Sirius’s weight across him. Sirius stole James’s arm and pulled it around himself, daring Peter and Remus with an aggressive look to react. They didn’t, or maybe there was a tiny new frown between Remus’s eyebrows. James stirred but said nothing, and Sirius closed his eyes, melting into familiar warmth and feeling at peace with himself again.


	25. And as I open the blinds in my mind I'm believing that you could stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Wild Ones" by Suede.

“It contains both catnip and valerian root,” Peter explained importantly. “I brewed it in the pewter cauldron and it’s looking like the instructions said it would, consistency like double cream.” 

Remus listened patiently, he felt as if he owed it to Peter. Usually the mad things they did were all instigated by James and Sirius, and Remus knew how much it meant for Peter to have his contributions taken seriously. James and Sirius looked as if they were approving of this idea of Peter’s, and Remus inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. James was sometimes neglectful of Peter’s input and Sirius could be downright mean if the idea didn’t meet his lofty standards. Remus didn’t like the sound of this plan at all, but for the sake of letting Peter have his moment, he’d go along with it. Just this once. 

“Mrs Tattler will be making her rounds on the sixth floor, likely as not, and we can just leave it out in a bowl for her.”

Remus schooled his features into neutrality. Mrs Tattler was rather an intelligent feline, and it was rarely as easy as to just leave out food for her when they needed to trick her. Why they needed to trick her in the first place was not something Remus had ever understood, either, but at this juncture it was too late to ask philosophical questions of his fellow Marauders. 

“Great stuff, Wormtail! Can’t wait to see her tripping out of her mind!”

Remus yet again wanted to ask ‘why?’, but he kept his mouth shut like the good boy he was. He wasn’t quite finished with his History of Magic homework, but he was sure it wouldn’t go down well if he asked to be allowed to stay behind and finish it. Besides, he realized he’d rather run with his mates. 

For a boy who had grown up friendless, his mother his only companion, Remus had lucked out at Hogwarts. Truly. He must have done something spectacularly heroic and uncharacteristic in a previous life, there was simply no other way of explaining how he’d been dealt the three people currently siphoning thick, greenish-white potion into a bowl James had transfigured out of a smelly sock that had been lying on the floor for some time and that nobody had wanted to lay claim to. Sirius began rooting through James’s trunk, no doubt looking for the Invisibility Cloak, but possibly also charming one of James’s woolly jumpers to read something rude. It was difficult to tell from Remus’s vantage point. Peter handed him the Marauder’s Map, and he was beaming and sniffing with apparent excitement. Remus gave him a heart-felt smile and Peter turned rat in front of his very eyes, tiny nose sniffling and whiskers twitching. Remus lifted him reverently from the floor and put him onto his shoulder.

“Ready to rock’n’roll, Moony?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, although admittedly Sirius didn’t wait for his reply before he threw the cloak over all four of them. It was a tight fit, but James and Sirius usually insisted that nobody was likely to spot their feet, anyway. They were a bit arrogant at times.

It absolutely didn’t matter that they were arrogant, however. That was the conclusion Remus had come to a long time ago, and it still held true. The fact that they were his friends weighed up everything bad and mad and dangerous they concocted between themselves. Peter wasn’t arrogant, but he did have his own shortcomings. He wasn’t always nice and he wasn’t always clever, and he could do with less blind trust in James. But as with the other two, it didn’t matter to Remus. 

His three friends had become animagi, just for him. And they didn’t hate him for his monster disease. With qualities like that, everything else faded into the background.

Remus smiled and tiptoed along with the others; they were trying to unobtrusively open the portrait hole. Not that the other Gryffindors cared, much, it was well-established that the four of them crept out at night and sometimes got into trouble and lost Gryffindor points. It didn’t matter; they had other qualities that weighed that up.

Remus was abruptly brought out of his happy thoughts and had to stifle a yelp; he was being pulled up into the portrait hole, limbs flailing and hitting James in the neck by mistake. Wormtail had retreated into his pocket, which was just as well. Then they were out.

The three boys and the rat made quick work of the distances in the castle; they weren’t even going all that far tonight. James and Sirius enjoyed sneaking quietly only for so long and soon Remus was looking around nervously while his mates giggled and whispered dramatically and very loudly into each other’s ears. Sirius had the map, and nobody was in this part of the sixth floor according to the map, but the portraits could definitely hear them. An elderly witch and wizard stopped in the middle of their Viennese wizards’ waltz to point in their direction and tut. Remus was sure they could see their feet underneath the flapping hem of the cloak.

The easternmost sixth floor corridor, which housed a magnificent straw statue of a moose Mrs Tattler liked to use as her personal scratching post, was empty save for some old portraits of deceased Hogwarts caretakers. Most were snoozing in their frames, and James and Sirius mercifully fell quiet. James put down the bowl with the potion next to the moose, and it turned its massive head towards them, making a confused and rather unattractive bawling noise. It sounded similar to Prongs the deer, which Remus was tactful enough not to mention. The three boys and the rat retreated into a corner to wait.

Mrs Tattler’s shadow (she was backlit) appeared at last, looming larger and larger until she appeared to fill the whole corridor. Then the cat appeared, a tiny thing with a chubby stomach and a calico coat. Remus could feel Wormtail twitch nervously on his shoulder.

The cat’s green eyes were too focused on the bowl of what appeared to be cream to look around, although it was debatable whether or not she could see through the cloak (Sirius was sure she could, but none of the others agreed with his assessment. He was prejudiced when it came to cats.)

The cream met with approval. The poor cat was stumbling around in no time, her eyes huge and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly confusion and probably anger too, knowing the personality of the cat in question. James and Sirius were giggling into each other’s shoulders, and Remus sighed and wondered what they were supposed to do now. The cat was out of its mind on hallucinogens and would remain so for the remainder of the night (if Peter had brewed his potion correctly). The four of them had no way of knowing what the cat was seeing, and even if they had, Remus didn’t think he would’ve found it funny. 

“What’s this?”

Filch the caretaker’s voice was coming from the other end of the corridor, and it sounded as if there was someone with him. The cat mewled at the moose, who rustled its great shovel-shaped antlers in her direction. Then the cat began to purr, long whiskers vibrating in delight.

Remus could sense James’s and Sirius’s mounting excitement as Argus Filch and two Slytherin prefects, Greengrass and Goyle, came into view. 

“Engorgio!” whispered James, and Sirius must’ve performed the same spell as two jets of blue light whizzed past like lightning. They collided before they could both hit the cat, and in a sequence of unforeseen events a giant moose swelled and exploded into great mounds of hay while a calico cat of epic proportions ran berserk through said hay, fast paws flinging bits around and catching it in her mouth, then diving into a pile and coming up yards away, scaring the living daylights out of two of the less-awful Slytherin prefects. Filch wasn’t scared, but he was upset, and he was at a loss for what to do (besides screaming and accusing Greengrass and Goyle of hexing his poor cat), and James and Sirius fell about laughing, almost giving away their position. Wormtail was sneezing tiny rodent sneezes like he was having a fit, and Remus guiltily remembered that his friend had bad hay fever. The straw was flying every which way and causing the air to become dusty, and the now giant Mrs Tattler was flinging herself through the air in pursuit of Merlin knew what, like a house tiger that had lost sight of her dignity but unfortunately not the faculty of her limber paws. She was still purring.

“Let’s get out of here,” Remus breathed into Sirius’s ear, and to his surprise Sirius stilled in his would-be-quiet full-body giggles and leaned right back into Remus, lips brushing his ear.

“OK.”

He apparently got James on board, too, and together they traipsed through unreal amounts of straw. The prefects were nowhere in sight and Filch was at the end of the corridor, watching his gargantuan cat and muttering to himself. They sneaked past with abated breath, but as soon as they had turned a corner James and Sirius were laughing again.

Remus ignored his niggling guilt and focused on the two black-haired wizards by his side, the euphoria and life-force they shared and that he was allowed to partake in, too. The feeling of Wormtail’s tiny little rat paws and the wetness from his pint-sized sneezes felt like a gift on his shoulder, and Remus smiled and was happy, if for a different reason than the others.


	26. When you find that things are getting wild, don't you want days like these?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ttitle from "The Day We Caught The Train" by Ocean Colour Scene.

James was confident in his skills at vanishing objects and so Tuesday morning’s lesson was a boring one. They were working with mice, and he had made his one vanish on the first attempt. Sirius, sitting next to him, had fashioned a plane out of some parchment and his mouse was currently soaring around the classroom very high up, as he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get caught. He was vaguely moving his wand in small circles, no incantations at all passing his lips, and his eyes were fixed on the back of Remus’s neck. 

Remus and Peter, the two try-hards, were sitting in front of them, both of them attempting to vanish their mice, although James thought he could spot the reluctance in Peter’s spellcasting even from a distance. It made sense that Peter would feel a strange affinity for a fellow rodent. As James watched, Peter finally managed to vanish his mouse, all except for the tail. It lay wriggling on his desk until Peter, with a horrified squeak, repeatedly said ‘evanesco’ until the tail, too, was gone. 

“Not bad at all, Mr Pettigrew, take one point for Gryffindor.” Professor McGonagall had appeared not in front of the boys, but behind James and Sirius. James turned so quickly he almost cricked his neck. Their Professor stepped down beside them, eyes sceptically on the circles Sirius’s wand was moving in. Peter and Remus had turned in their seats, Peter still blushing from the rare compliment. He was usually bollocks at Transfiguration, James knew, it was easily his worst subject.

“Mr Black, Mr Potter. No mice on your table?”

James caught Sirius’s eye before he responded.

“That’s correct, Professor.”

“If you’ve successfully managed to vanish it, you could try to return the mouse for us?”

James performed the spell smoothly and enunciating clearly. He could tell that McGonagall was smiling proudly as the mouse reappeared, twitching but otherwise none the worse for wear. 

“Excellent, Mr Potter, 10 well-deserved points for Gryffindor.”

James turned smugly to Sirius, who of course hadn’t yet vanished his mouse in the first place. Quite a few of their fellow classmates were pointing up in the air to where the paper plane was still skimming around in circles. James managed to mutter ‘wingardium leviosa’ while feigning a yawn, taking over the plane from Sirius. Their Professor, who had been involved in a staring contest with Sirius after awarding James the points, twitched a little as if she had sensed his spell work. 

“Fine,” Sirius said, as if he was reluctantly agreeing to something mad his parents had suggested. James looked on with some interest, wondering what Sirius was going to do. Whatever it was he did it silently, and then to James’s glee a mouse sprang into being right in front of their eyes. It wasn’t white, like the mice they had been working with, but jet black. It did have red eyes and it squeaked impressively as it tried to scuttle off the desk, proving that it was very much a functioning mouse. 

In his excitement James made the plane he was co-piloting nosedive at an angle, and there were several muffled shouts which McGonagall couldn’t help but notice. She spotted the plane much like a cat in hunting mode and James reluctantly steered the plane with Sirius’s original mouse back down. Sirius had boldly written ‘Apollo 13’ on the side of the plane. The mouse almost fell flat on its face in its haste to get off the ramshackle aircraft and James could feel McGonagall gazing down at them and their hapless mouse with something close to despair.

“Five point from Gryffindor, Mr Black, for trying to deceive a teacher. If you can make your real mouse disappear, I will give you five points.”

James grinned appreciatively at this turn of events and watched Sirius flick his wand, once without effect but the second time the white mouse disappeared. McGonagall nodded, some approval sneaking into her expression although she still was very much her stern self.

“Very good, Mr Black. Now you can help Mr Potter with his non-verbal spellcasting and Mr Potter can, in return, help you understand the moral issues involved in thoughtlessly creating sentient creatures.” 

With that, McGonagall lifted the black mouse Sirius had conjured, and she carried it up to her desk where it was put into a small terrarium complete with a hamster wheel. 

“Or you can help me?” Remus whispered over his shoulder. He was holding his trembling mouse in his fist, it was very much still there, tail and all. 

To James’s surprise Sirius immediately began to give advice on how to do it, and Remus looked quite surprised as well. Sirius was infamously bad at explaining any magical theory to others, whether because he disliked applying himself more than he absolutely had to or because he was a rubbish teacher was anyone’s guess, but right now he was giving Remus real advice on how to improve his performance. The perhaps strangest thing was that for him to be able to do so, he would have had to watch Remus’s attempts first to know what he was doing wrong.

“Who are you and what’ve you done with my best mate?” James whispered into Sirius’s ear, “helping Moony and Wormtail is my role.” 

“Helping Wormtail’s your role,” Sirius responded cryptically, but before James could press him further the bell signalling the end of the lesson was ringing and drowning out anything he might have had to say to that.

Lily Evans walked up to the teacher’s desk, and James felt his stomach swoop as he watched. She was wearing the green earrings she always wore when she was tired and stressed and didn’t give herself time to apply makeup or fix her hair. James liked them a lot.

“Any news on the cat?” 

James grabbed Sirius’s sleeve and they both stowed their quills and parchments away at a slower pace. James’s bag was filled with charmed fanged frisbees today, so getting his school things in there was a bit tricky.

“Mrs Tattler’s back to her usual self. A small dosage of animal calming draught sorted her right out. She had been hit with an engorgement charm on top of the mind-altering potion. And of course the school has been in contact with a magical art historian and a restoration expert. The unfortunate Maurice the Moose should be back with us before spring.”

“I see. Thanks for telling me, Professor!”

“Black and Potter, you two might want to get a move on? Unless you’ve got some information to share pertaining to poor Mrs Tattler’s rampage last night?”

“We’re blissfully unaware of any cat-related rampages, aren’t we, James?”

“We are indeed. We’re great admirers of Mrs Tattler and her temper and her size, wouldn’t dare to meddle with anything so integral to her being.”

Lily stared angrily at him and James’s voice faltered. Sirius gripped his arm and dragged him out of the Transfiguration classroom before McGonagall had time to call them out on it.


	27. Come closer and see, see into the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "A Forest" by The Cure.

Remus was doing miserably. It was the night before the full moon, and he felt as if he was coming down with a very potent cold. Of course he knew he wasn’t, but that was as close as he could describe it to his parents and to the other Marauders when they asked him about how he experienced it. His temperature rose and remained high until the morning after, his joints ached, and his throat got thick and heavy. His thought processes all seemed to get slower, much much slower, and schoolwork was difficult and sometimes impossible to complete the days before. His appetite changed, too, but that was something he never spoke of, tried not to let the others know was a thing. He was enough of a freak as it was.

Other bad things seemed to happen just before the full moon, too. Like Snape following him around. It had started over a year ago, and it was becoming more and more obvious, viciously so, now. Snape usually only tried to hex James unprovoked (or in extension Sirius, perhaps, there really wasn’t much difference between them Remus supposed) but these last few months Remus had found that tripping jinxes and stinging hexes and various other mildly painful or inconvenient charms would be sent his way during the days leading up to the full moon. His reflexes became dull and his whole body felt like lead, so there wasn’t much he could do to defend himself. The other Marauders didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to tell them about it, either. He wasn’t sure what Snape thought he could prove by doing this, or maybe he just thought it was funny to beat someone who was already down. Snape wanted him to know that he was onto him, that his secret was far from safe. Remus would just have to make sure he never got his hands on any real proof.

Remus’s mother had sent some muggle chocolate and a letter and a drawing to him to cheer him up. She always sent a letter before the full moon, knowing her son would be feeling out of sorts right about then. It usually warmed him, but this time it’d made his blood run cold. What if this was the last package from home he’d ever get? It wasn’t as if his father would ever write to him, other than to say his mother was dead, perhaps. 

The drawing was of a hare in winter shroud, which her letter told him had gotten into the garden and had tried to dig up some of her flower bulbs. She’d let it go about its business for as long as it took her to draw it.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Remus? Not coming down with the flu or anything, are you?”

Lily was waiting for him outside of the portrait hole; it was their turn to do rounds in the castle tonight. Remus would rather confess he’d helped hex poor Mrs Tattler than ever admit he wasn’t up to do his rounds. Lily was a disconcertingly intelligent person, and he could not afford to draw attention to his illness.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said instead, and he even tried on a smile for her. She didn’t look convinced. 

“Watch out for Peeves!” Lily said suddenly, and Remus stumbled and tried to get out of the way, which was difficult when you didn’t know which direction danger was coming from

“Loony Lupin! Loopy Lupin!” 

There was cackling and the blowing of a raspberry and lukewarm liquid hitting Remus in the back of the neck. Lovely.

He heard Lily cast a banishing charm and he had to grasp the stonewall to stay upright. His head was spinning.

“It’s some sort of purple slime… I’ll try vanishing it.”

Remus nodded and tried to focus his eyes. The corridor they were in was bathing in moonlight and he wondered, not for the first time, if this wasn’t obvious to Lily. The liquid that was slipping down his back underneath his robes vanished.

“Cheers.”

“No problem. He’s quite horrible, isn’t he? I’ve noticed you’re one of his favourites to attack.”

“Me and Kathy Hopkirk,” Remus agreed. Kathy Hopkirk was frequently chased around the castle by the poltergeist, and only last week she had descended into tears after Peeves had poured a sack of fresh earth on top of her head during breakfast. 

“I’ve heard he’s flooded her dormitory twice. The Hufflepuff seventh year girls have woken up with their beds actually floating around. Unless that’s something you and Potter and Black and Pettigrew did?”

“No, that wasn’t us,” Remus said. “Maybe don’t tell them about it, though, you’ll only give them ideas.”

“As if I would have anything to say to those three,” Lily said loftily, but she shot Remus a grin. 

“But you talk to me,” Remus pointed out to her.

“Fishing for compliments, are we? Yes, you’ve got your redeeming qualities. Being a prefect and all I suppose you’d have to. Mind you, if I hear one more story about you boys sneaking into the girls’ dormitory I might have to take out my anger on you.”

Remus blushed but he didn’t say anything. He’d never been to the girls’ dormitory (not the Gryffindor one, at least) as he wasn’t an animagus. Sirius and Peter both had, though, and he knew James had tried on one very memorable occasion. The other three swore there were still marks in the staircase ceiling from Prongs’s antlers. 

“You better not tell them the password to the Prefects’ bathroom, either. I overheard Potter and Black trying to wheedle it out of you yesterday in the Common Room. Can’t have those two oafs abusing the tap with the fizzing raspberry bubbles or getting their dirty hands on the good towels.”

Remus hummed noncommittally, but truth be told he quite agreed with Lily. Those two let loose in the Prefects’ bathroom could only spell disaster.

They walked in silence through a corridor that had taken a lot of work to get on the map (the corridor began on the seventh floor, but somehow the other end of it was on the fourth floor) and Lily began humming an Elton John tune Remus recognized from the radio. His mother listened to the muggle radio whenever she made sculptures. Thoughts of his mother made him descend further into melancholy, and he was so wrapped up in thoughts of his mother’s well-being, the inevitable fact that this would be the last February she would experience, that he didn’t see where the Slytherin seventh years appeared from. Suddenly they were there, though.

“If it isn’t the uppity leader of the Gryffindor mudbloods, and the useless dirty-blooded sidekick to the Gryffindor bloodtraitors?”

Remus was hit by a body-bind curse before he even had located the voice, and his body crashed into the floor.

“Stupefy!”

“Anteoculatia!”

“Stupefy!”

Remus could do nothing but stare into the ceiling, at the plentiful cobwebs and cracks in the rocks. Then he was released from the bodybind curse, and he sat up gingerly, the whole of his body aching from his fall and the moon. Lily was all but fuming from the ears, she really looked ready to combust, or perhaps light Evan Rosier and Carrie-Anne Montgomery on fire. They were both lying on the floor, clearly out cold.

“Thanks Lily,” Remus said, “that was very impressive. The way you handled it.”

“We need to get a teacher,” Lily said, distaste written all over her pretty, freckled face. “I think I’ll get Professor Slughorn.”

Remus nodded, although he didn’t much like the suggestion himself. Slughorn rarely acknowledged his existence during lessons, but he was very fond of both James and Sirius. Remus could see why Lily liked the idea of getting him, though. Lily was his absolute favourite student, as she was both a potions prodigy and exactly the sort of vibrant and witty witch Slughorn loved to banter with. Rosier and Montgomery belonged to his house.

“Up you come,” Lily continued, actually trying to lift Remus from under his arms. Remus struggled and flailed about in a way that hurt a lot, then he finally gained his footing and was able to get up from the cold stone floor. Lily gave him a worried once-over and opened her mouth as if to ask if he was ok again. She seemed to change her mind, though, and instead took his arm and led him off towards the nearest set of stairs.

Remus kept back as Lily explained the situation to the potion’s master, who was wearing purple silk pyjamas and a matching night cap. His enormous moustache was inside of a hairnet, and Remus was grateful none of his fellow Marauders were here. They would not have been able to stop themselves from pointing and laughing. 

Lily was fierce and did not mince her words as she let Slughorn know exactly what she had been called by his students, and Slughorn did have the decency to look ashamed. Most of all, he claimed to be shocked, however, which rubbed Remus the wrong way. Everyone knew that Evan Rosier was bad news, a violent blood supremacist if ever there was one, and Slughorn’s ignorance, feigned or real, was offensive. He knew Lily was a muggleborn, knew how much animosity she faced from some of the other students because she was brilliant and loud and very visible, according to them not allowed to be all she was because of her parentage. Slughorn knew better and should stop being two-faced, should draw a line in the sand and choose a side. Remus felt like he knew his type, though, and he was sure he never would. 

“You need to get to bed now, my dear miss Evans,” Slughorn was saying, face the epitome of fatherly worry. “Tonight’s been quite the ordeal, I can tell. You just go back to your tower and leave it all to me.”

Remus just about managed not to laugh, knowing as he did that Lily was more capable than almost everyone in the castle, including a fair few professors, and certainly Slughorn. Lily bade her professor a polite goodnight, however, and Remus let himself be led off by her yet again. Slughorn hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. 

“What punishment do you think he’ll give them?” Remus asked quietly as they walked up through the sleeping castle. Lily was still holding on to his arm. She gave him a tired and unusually sad look.

“A rap on the knuckles and a stern talking to about how they need to be more careful and not ruin their bright futures? I thought that maybe, if I was the one who spoke to Professor Slughorn, that he would… Well. Bloody hypocrite, eh?”

The moon shone brightly, and Remus watched unhappily as it hit Lily’s dark red hair and made it shine like spun magic.

“Bloody hypocrite,” Remus concurred.


	28. He will wait until you give yourself to him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Echo and the Bunnymen's "The Killing Moon".

“Quit stepping on my feet, Wormtail,” Sirius whispered angrily. James was in front, leading the others through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. Sirius was right behind him and Peter made up the rear. Peter didn’t like the tunnels and the passageways much, James was yet to figure out if it was the dark or the confinement, but he had an unfortunate habit of walking a bit too close to the others when they used them. 

“Sorry Padfoot, won’t happen again,” Peter’s wheezing voice sounded from behind. James pushed on; he was equally eager to get through to the other side. He and Sirius had come up with a plan for the night, and he couldn’t wait to see it in action. 

This would be the fourth full moon they would spend in their animagus shapes with the werewolf. The previous three times in the Shack had been fun enough (for the three of them, Moony of course wasn’t present in the strictest sense and Remus the boy derived no fun whatsoever from the full moon nights), but a medium-sized house was rather a cramped space for four animals, and in particular for James who could barely stand upright indoors with his impressive antlers. It had been decided that they would take the werewolf into the forest this time around, although they had yet to tell Remus that. It was probably best he didn’t know about it beforehand, in fact Sirius and James had sort of decided that they would pretend it had been an accident the next day.

James was a huge animal and Moony the werewolf had been very intimidated by him during their previous meetings. Padfoot the dog was the same size as the werewolf, and the two canines seemed to have struck up a friendship immediately. Moony was likely to follow his new best friend’s lead anyway, and even if he didn’t, James was faster and could threaten him into falling in line by suggestively wiggling his head. It was perfect.

James finally reached the trapdoor and opened it with a thump, then heaved himself out of the hole. He could hear Remus moaning unhappily upstairs, and he had to override his instincts to go and comfort him. They had, thus far, left Remus in peace as he transformed and only joined him once the noises from that one upstairs bedroom turned into the snarls of a trapped beast. James walked over to the back door of the house, which had a layer of enchantments on it just like every other inch of the house. Sirius joined him not a minute later, and together they set about identifying what charms they were and how to undo the ones keeping them in. It was lucky that Sirius’s father was obsessed with how to protect properties, he had apparently skimmed through his father’s notes back in Grimmauld Place. 

It took them the full half hour they had allotted themselves, but finally they had it, were able to do the correct wand waving, and James thought he could even feel the heavy magic lift from the door. They then had to blast it open as there were thick planks of wood hammered across the door from the outside, but that was far easier although they almost blew the door off its hinges in their enthusiasm. 

James turned to high five his best mate, but that’s when they heard a squeal from Peter the rat and an eager thumping as something big launched itself down the stairs. Sirius smirked arrogantly at him and left him hanging as he transformed into the massive, bearlike black dog. James stepped out through the open door and transformed as soon as he was outside. The antlers would never have made it through the door. 

As the stag turned to gaze back into the Shack, he was met first by a chubby rat that was scurrying towards him, intent on climbing up onto his back or maybe his head. James didn’t mind. The two oversized dogs had stopped mid-wrestle, the werewolf’s insane yellow eyes were wide with surprise as it stared through the open door. The black dog was on top of it, sniffing and maybe licking its neck. James wished he’d had a deer-operated camera with him.

There was an eager growl and suddenly the werewolf was bounding towards James, tongue lolling out of its mouth like a deranged puppy, the great black dog hot on its heels. They both came to a halt just outside and James watched them curiously. He thought he could feel the rat getting settled on his head. The werewolf was panting and shivering but standing quite still. Padfoot was looking at the werewolf with his ghostly, grey eyes. They were Sirius’s colour, but the difference in shape and the lack of white around the irises still made them look very different from his human ones. They looked ghost-like, or like the dark side of the moon.

James gazed out into the moon-lit night, wondering what the werewolf was seeing and thinking. It had never been out, of course, and Remus was always adamant in his insistence that he and the wolf were completely separate and shared no memories or feelings or anything like that. James wasn’t sure if he believed him. 

They were facing a stretch of forest that would eventually bleed into the Forbidden Forest. They had never tried to walk through in their human forms, but James had flown over the whole of the forest plenty of times and knew that they did connect. The idea for tonight was to hike through it on four legs, see the sights.

Padfoot gave the side of the werewolf’s snout a few licks with his bright pink tongue and then took some steps forward. The werewolf visibly jolted back into action and followed Padfoot on eager paws. James went from a stuttering walk into a much more comfortable trot, deciding the pace once he’d caught up. As a deer it was much easier to run or leap than to walk, somehow he felt incredibly clumsy when he walked. When leaping he was majestic, though. 

They had a fantastic night. The werewolf was excited but also a bit timid. It stopped to smell things and sometimes it growled randomly at things James couldn’t identify, but mostly it loped along with Prongs and Padfoot, three fast and strong animals racing through the trees, jumping over small rim-frosted ponds and swerving leafless but thorny bushes. The two dogs tried to climb a tree more than once, which was hilariously unsuccessful, and James couldn’t help but make the loud, bawling noise that seemed to be the way a stag spoke (he could also huff and sneeze). Both dogs flinched at the noise, which was admittedly very loud and maybe an acquired taste (Sirius had boldly suggested the sound was reminiscent of Snivellus blowing his nose). The dogs also swam in a half-frozen pond, which James had a feeling the pair would regret come morning. The ice looked like broken shards on the surface and the water was shallow and seemed full of murky, maybe half-rotten, debris. 

The wolf and dog wrestled some more once they were on dry land again, shiny black and thick light grey blending into one giant, dirty hairball. James didn’t spot any other animals, although he once thought he heard the pounding of hooves bigger than his own. They had met centaurs twice before and he knew there were plenty of them in the forest. They had also almost gotten stuck in a nest of acromantulas once, and as a consequence there was a sizeable area in the north of the Forbidden Forest that they avoided completely. 

Time passed unfortunately quickly and soon there was that weird colour when they looked up into the sky, that almost greenish hue that mingled with the sheer pattern of stars and the bloated, chalky moon. James began to herd the canines back in the direction they had come from. Remus was the best when it came to orientation, with Peter second and James third (James had voiced the theory that Sirius spent so much time without them in different parts of the castle after hours not because he was seeing someone in a broom cupboard but because he was simply lost and too proud to tell the others. Sirius’s sense of direction was rubbish.), and James hoped that he was remembering his bearings correctly. Having flown over the forest plenty definitely helped, though, and he thought he had timed their excursion perfectly as the looming and derelict form of the Shrieking Shack came into view. It was up on a hill and James could feel it in his legs as he climbed up. The wolf and the dog were extremely slow, both with their pink tongues hanging out of their mouths in an almost cartoonish manner.

James stopped outside of the open door and stood guard as the two canines padded over the threshold. James could feel Peter crawl down his leg, but he stopped in the grass, nervously peering over the threshold and into the room beyond. James knew why he was hesitating; Remus had made clear on several occasions that the transformation was rather personal and not something he wanted them to witness. Padfoot had gone in with him though and seemed to be staying, but then Sirius was not one who respected other people’s privacy or understood modesty. Remus would be naked once he turned back to himself. 

James bowed his head a little and waited. His head felt almost as heavy as his legs, but then maybe that was just the massive antlers. 

Whimpering sounds were coming from inside now and James wished he could’ve pulled his hands over his ears. It was almost obscene in its wretchedness and its distress, and James’s heart ached with the need to help. There was nothing they could do but wait, however, and soon enough the noises were entirely human and he could hear Sirius’s soothing voice too. Peter must’ve heard the same and the two of them managed to transform at exactly the same moment; James becoming smaller and Peter much bigger. 

James stepped through first and found Sirius kneeling on the dirty floor, petting Remus’s hair as though he was still an animal. Sirius had bundled Remus up in an old blanket and their friend looked tiny like that. Remus appeared to be semi-conscious, he was still trembling and sniffling as if he was close to tears. 

“You’re ok now, Remus,” Sirius whispered quietly as James, too, crouched down next to them. “We ran around in the forest tonight and the wolf loved it. You should’ve seen it, he was so happy out there, swimming and jumping around. He even tried to climb a tree, which is rather silly since canines obviously can’t climb trees.” Sirius smiled at James and James noted that Sirius left out the bit where he, too, had attempted the same climb. 

“We’ll charm the door shut and then we’ll have to leave before Pomfrey turns up,” James said and gave Remus a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll come see you after classes, ok?”

“OK”, Remus muttered and burrowed into his blanket. His robes were in a cupboard next to the trapdoor, but they couldn’t really give them to him without alerting Pomfrey to the fact that someone other than Remus had been here. Instead, James got up and charmed the door shut again. After some deliberation, Peter came up with the idea to make the door password protected as they weren’t good enough to put back all of Dumbledore’s old enchantments, but didn’t wish to leave the door easy to get through in case some of their fellow students would try to break in during a Hogsmeade weekend. 

“Dogs can’t climb trees,” James decided almost under his breath, and Peter giggled into his fist. Sirius shoved two crooked fingered in his face but then moved to help him with the complicated charm. 

The three of them almost ran into Madam Pomfrey in the Entrance Hall, which meant that they had cut it too fine. But James threw the cloak over himself and Sirius as they stopped just to the left of the doors and Peter turned rat before he was spotted. Madam Pomfrey bustled past, muttering agitatedly to herself, and they could move up the staircase towards their waiting beds. It had been a long night.


	29. I didn't hear a word you said, I never pay attention anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Biffy Clyro's "Balance, Not Symmetry".

Remus was still in his towel by the bedside rooting for clean clothes when Sirius came out of the showers. He stopped almost reluctantly just inside the closed door, eyes locked on Remus. The fascination he’d long felt for the other boy burned brighter than ever. 

His limbs were long and skinny, presumably mid growth-spurt like so many others. But on Remus this looked fascinating, or at least it did to Sirius. Everything was a bit bony and full of angles, kept together by soft skin. His skin had a warm, unusual hue, maybe a little bit Mediterranean if Sirius was to put it into words. It looked golden after a winter holiday in Africa, alive and healthy unlike what Remus usually looked like throughout winter and spring when his skin faded into a sickly pale. Not that Sirius found his winter skin unattractive, either, that was the weird thing. He knew that would have been logical, but he was always drawn to it, because it was Remus’s. He found himself looking longingly at the freckles and discolorations on Remus’s arms, the weird hairs that grew on Remus’s knobbly toes, the mild acne on his shoulders. His muscles were taut and sinewy and stretchy all over, but he had some odd, soft-looking bits in places. Like on the back of his thighs and on his belly and on his underarms. Sirius was itching to touch it, to touch anything and everything.

Remus must have turned around at some point and was now eyeing Sirius in confusion, still naked bar the towel wrapped securely around his waist. 

“I really want to snog you,” Sirius told him, offering him the honest explanation for his wandering eyes. Remus stared at him with continued confusion, although he did blush, which suggested that he had heard him. 

“Of course you do,” Remus stated quietly and turned around again to dig for a clean shirt in his trunk. 

Sirius stared for a few more seconds, then shrugged and dived into his own trunk, towel dropping to the floor. The evidence of how interested he was in snogging Remus was on display, but Remus wasn’t looking.

James burst in when Sirius was squirming into a bright purple jumper. He was still in his quidditch gear and had Peter in tow. Peter toppled down on Remus’s bed as James bustled off to the showers, his face flushed and an excited smile painting his face. Remus sat down on his bed too, dressed in his large second-hand robes. 

“You should’ve seen Prongs today; he scored a goal when he was dangling upside-down from his broom!”

“He never ceases to amaze you, does he?” Sirius muttered. 

“What are we planning after lunch? I was hoping you would help me with McGonagall’s essay,” Remus said. “Haven’t written the summary Flitwick asked for yet, either.”

“We’re not doing homework,” Sirius stated haughtily, making sure the other two understood how absurd that suggestion was. “It’s Sunday.”

“I’ve got a plan!” James shouted as he strode past in his towel. His skin was red and looked as if it was steaming from the speedy hot shower. Sirius gave his arse a healthy squeeze as he walked past. 

“We’re not transporting the giant squid to the tub in the Prefects’ bathroom again,” said Remus decisively. “And no, I won’t give you the password so that you can do it without me, either.”

“Shame. Anyway, you need to keep up, squid’s birthday isn’t until next week,” James told him with a tut. 

“I think we should take the squid to the Great Hall,” Peter volunteered. “It’s probably never been there before.”

Sirius frowned and met James’s eye. That would be a high-visibility endeavour and as such was a decent idea, but the question was if James and Sirius were capable of the magic required. Taking the squid to the Prefects’ bathroom had required a lot of planning and practising last year; it had involved a very advanced animal molding-charm to allow the squid to take the required shape for being sucked through the pipes leading to the castle. They had learned everything there was to know about Hogwarts plumbing in the process, though. 

“I’m thinking a glass tank, or maybe even a modified bubblehead charm,” said Sirius finally and James nodded in agreement.

“There’s space behind the head table, unless we can work a really good levitation charm?” 

“That poor squid,” said Remus mildly, “if it survives this year it will be traumatized for life.”

“Of course it’ll survive,” James scoffed, “it’s Lily’s favourite animal!”

“I still think that was a joke, Prongs,” Sirius said. “She’s more of a cat-lady, I can tell.”

“You hate cats!”

“Exactly,” muttered Sirius, but James wasn’t listening. 

“We’re treating the squid to a day out on his birthday, I’m sure he’ll have a whale of a time.”

Peter giggled at the lame joke and James nodded approvingly at him. 

“We’ve got a week to plan, and next Sunday it’s showtime. For tomorrow, though, I’ve stumbled upon an excellent little potion.”

“Pray tell?” Sirius said with a grin at the same time as Remus groaned into his hands. 

“It’s a potion that’ll make you scared of birds. As in the flappy, feathery things, not as in the ones with tits.”

“Tits are birds, to be fair,” said Remus, but Sirius talked over him.

“And you plan to dose the Slytherin’s before breakfast? You evil genius, Prongs!”

“You mean they’ll be scared of the owls when they bring the morning post?” Peter asked eagerly. 

“I reckon it’ll be a good one,” James said smugly. “The potion is a bit finicky, but as long as Moony doesn’t come near the cauldron we can do it.”

“Hey!”

“Nowhere near it, Moony, you hear me? Still haven’t forgotten how your mere presence made that batch of Polyjuice potion try to escape our dormitory.” 

“That was because you dropped a sweaty quidditch sock in there, Prongs. Anyone who’s smelt your dirty socks would wish to vacate the premises, too.”

“Libel and slander! It was Moony’s aura and you know it. All self-respecting potions try to get away from his abysmal potioneering skills. Need I remind you he’s the only student in this school who’s managed to turn a simple shrinking solution into actual hippogriff dung.” 

“Hippogriff dung is valuable as manure for some flesh-eating plants; I’ll have you know. Professor Sprout thanked me in person!”

“And if you just stayed and fondled your manure in Greenhouse five whenever there was potion brewing on the agenda the community of tinctures and elixirs would thank you.”

“What are the ingredients for this one?”

“Nettles, unripe strawberries and entrails of a few different animals. Slughorn has everything we don’t have in his cupboard. We also need the feather of a particularly vicious bird, so I reckon Odin is our man.”

Sirius grinned happily.

“He’ll hate you if you ruin more of his body.”

“I never did take his eye out; I genuinely have no idea where his other eye went!”

“That’s what they all say.”

“If you two have finished deciding how to further mutilate James’s poor owl then we can maybe go get some lunch?”


	30. Don't change for you, don't change a thing for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Don't Change" by INXS.

After lunch they set about with the ornithophobia potion. It would have to stew overnight but should be ready before breakfast began. James led the way to the kitchens where the four of them were greeted by the house-elves.

“Topsy, Pip, how’s tricks?” 

“Excellent lunch today, the roast potatoes were divine!”

“Thank you, kind sirs!”

“Do you have any of the Victoria sponge left, by any chance?” Peter asked hopefully, and he’d barely finished his sentence before a large slice of cake oozing with jam and cream was making its way towards them.

“We’ve got a rather special request today,” James told Pip, who was the elf standing closest to him. “We need some uncooked intestines from any type of livestock, as well as unripe strawberries.”

If the elf found the request peculiar, he didn’t show it, and soon two more plates were making their way towards them; one with yellowish berries and one with a nasty, bloody mess of something sausage-like. 

“This is vile,” Remus muttered as Sirius borrowed a kitchen towel from the elf next to him to wrap around the plate with intestines. James poured the unripe strawberries into the pocket of Peter’s robes and handed the plate back to Pip, who bowed and smiled. 

“You two go get started and I’ll take Moony the potion-slayer with me to Slughorn’s private storage.”

Remus grumbled at this delegation of work, but he let James throw the cloak of invisibility over the two of them and be led further down into the dungeons of the castle.

There were lots of students in motion, coming back to the Hufflepuff or Slytherin common rooms after a late lunch, and James took it upon himself to steer Moony to make sure they didn’t bump into anyone underneath the cloak. James had long since realized that, outside of his head, Moony was a bit uncoordinated and prone to stumbling. Peter, in turn, was out of shape even with all the exercise the four of them got running around the castle and the castle grounds at all times of day and night and walking at a normal pace with Peter underneath the cloak was just as challenging as doing it with Remus. James didn’t mind, though, he was well aware that not everyone could be as good as he and Sirius were. 

James was itching to hex some of the Slytherin students they saw on the way, the beaters and enormous seventh years Flint and Rowle who’d aimed any number of bludgers at James in the past filled up the whole corridor at one point and James and Remus had to press themselves flat against the stone wall. Genevieve Oxley, another seventh year Slytherin, had been responsible the last time radishes had started growing out of Sirius’s nostrils, and it would’ve been only fair if James had avenged his best mate. Remus thought otherwise, though, and gripped James’s wand hand as she strutted past.

“Here we are,” he whispered when they finally rounded the last corner and found themselves facing the non-descript wooden door that led to the potion master’s private storage. It was password protected, which was partly why James had brought Remus along. Doors liked Remus, as a rule, and would usually give him clues as they guessed their way to the correct password.

“Amortentia?” James tried, and the door shrugged on its hinges.

“It is a potion, then?” Remus asked and the door sighed contentedly.

“Umm, Polyjuice potion?” Remus tried politely. The door shuddered.

“Felix Felicis?” James tried, taking over as he knew his friend was rubbish at remembering anything to do with potions, including their names. No response from the door.

“Does it have a similar effect to Felix Felicis?” Remus asked and the door giggled a little.

“Tincture of Hysteria?” James tried. “Laughter Solution? Contentment Concoction? Elixir of Euphoria?” The door swung open and the two boys grinned proudly at one another before they stepped through. 

James was in here at least once a month, and he knew his way around. Slughorn was quite organized, but he did have too much of everything, and the shelves were spilling over with golden hairs of unicorn fowls, dried flower petals in open boxes, glass jars of powders in all colours along with talons and animal bones that were badly tangled in each other. There were no nametags on anything, which had presented a great challenge to James and the others during their first few years of school, although curtesy of Fleamont James did have a head start. They had all learnt quickly though (or maybe Remus hadn’t), and James felt confident as he scooped up some black solidified augurey droppings into one pouch he’d brought, and one Fenician vulture talon into another. Remus stood still next to him and refused to touch even the shelves, which James thought was probably for the best. He handed Remus their new ingredients to bring to the dormitory as he still needed to go visit the owlery. They closed the door behind them, still underneath the cloak, and the door sighed as Remus gave it a small pat.

“You take the cloak and I’ll meet you in the dormitory once I have the feather,” James instructed, and Remus walked off, still underneath the cloak. Remus was a bit odd that way, he usually preferred going through life unnoticed. It was lucky James had befriended him, really, Remus needed to be taken out of his comfort zone as much as possible. 

Once in the owlery James decided that he might as well use this opportunity to send a letter to his mum, and he came up with a scrap of unused parchment from his well-filled pockets. Right now he was carrying around a self-inking quill, some stink pellets, a book of romantic muggle poems in case he’d find himself alone with Evans, a muggle lighter he’d stolen from Sirius and a selection of trick sweeties. 

_Dear Mum,_ James wrote,

_Please, please can you send me some of your damson gin fudge. I miss it. Also, a galleon or two wouldn’t go amiss, as there’s a Hogwarts weekend coming up next Saturday.  
The boys all say hello and want to compliment you on your fabulously stylish robes, sharp wit and pretty face. I’ve had to tell Sirius several times that you’re taken and not interested, but he keeps asking me to put in a good word on his behalf anyway. So here goes; it wasn’t him who filled your shoes with frogspawn that time three summers ago. We’re pretty sure it was a garden gnome, or maybe one of the neighbours. Old Mrs Kendall is a bit eccentric, isn’t she?_

_All my love to you, and to dad,_

_James_

Odin hooted warily from one of the apertures along the tower walls when James had signed his name and was rolling up the letter into a scroll. He got out a bit of string from his pocket and advanced on his owl. Odin ruffled his feathers importantly, but his one orange eye looked almost hostile. He clearly knew something was up. James stroked the owl soothingly over its black feathers, and as luck had it he found a small feather that was coming loose in the owls neck. He pocketed it carefully and tied the letter to the owl, who kept its suspicious eye on James’s hands. 

“Good bird,” he murmured as he finished tying with a bow. “This is for mum.” The owl hooted and took off before James got the chance to say or do anything else. James stayed up there for a minute or two, simply enjoying the view of the white and green and brown and grey landscape. He loved being high up almost as much as he loved running through the forest in stag form. They had all thought James would turn into a bird when they started with the animagus project, and it had been a pleasant surprise that James had ended up such a big animal. If he’d been a hawk or an eagle like they had guessed, there was no way they could have sneaked out of the Shack like they had that week. But with two such large animals it was easy to keep the werewolf in line, James’s antlers were worryingly large and pointy and he had found it laughably easy to herd the werewolf in the direction they wanted. Dark creature his arse. That Sirius was a dog made things even more perfect, as the two canines could roll around and chase each other’s’ tails and clearly Moony understood Padfoot’s growls and body language. Prongs the werewolf feared, though, and this was a most fortunate combination.

Whistling happily, James walked back through the castle. He met Slughorn on the third floor, he was panting loudly in front of the stairs and looked as if he was steeling his nerves for the ascent.

“James, my boy!” he shouted as he saw James jogging up another staircase a stone’s throw away. “I’m having supper tonight with some of my students and the head of the MLE, why don’t you come along?” 

“Thanks sir, but I’m busy tonight. Promise I’ll come if you get the head of the auror department to come!” James shouted back. Slughorn would try to get him to join the Slug Club at least once a year, but James and Sirius had long since decided that the Slug Club was not for them. Remus probably had a point when he said that James and Sirius were so full of themselves already that they couldn’t stand being around other people who were more of the same. James would argue that he and Sirius had a bigger right than most to be full of themselves; they were really in a league of their own when it came to everything that mattered. Remus had seen fit to laugh at him the last time he explained this. Now if Slughorn invited someone like auror Moody, say, or the captain for Puddlemere United, he would consider making an exception. 

Remus was in the common room, alone by a table in front of one of the windows. He was writing frantically as if he was expecting to be interrupted any minute now. James poked him in the back and Remus’s quill spilt some ink over what looked to be the Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow.

“I’m staying here until the brewing is completed,” Remus said defensively. “The cloak is on your bed,” he added out of the corner of his mouth and James nodded his thanks. 

“Fine, we’ll come get you once it’s done.”

“Cool. Can you tell me what problems Gamp’s law causes for switching spells?” Remus asked hopefully. 

“Doesn’t work with meals, but it does with ingredients and the like,” James said with a small frown. How did Remus not know this? 

“Right…” Remus stared unhappily at his half-written essay.

“It’s all in there,” James said and patted the books stapled in front of Remus. 

“Cheers.” Remus gave him an unhappy smile and James made his way to the dormitory instead. If Remus was going to mope around with essays he sure as Merlin’s love for Morgana wasn’t staying. 

The dormitory smelled surprisingly pleasant, the strawberries, although unripe, appeared to have had an overbearing effect over the rest of the ingredients. Sirius was stirring in the augurey droppings with a steady hand, perhaps a bit faster than what the potion’s inventor had intended, but as they had discovered it usually had a marginal effect at worst. Sirius was a bit frustrating that way, even though he knew he was counting too fast he didn’t slow down. 

“Odin says hello,” James greeted them, and Peter, who was seated on James’s bed close to the cauldron and sniffing happily at the sweet-smelling fumes, raised his hand in thanks. 

“Feather can go in now, I think,” Sirius said. He looked almost bored, which might mean that James would have to find a way to entertain him tonight. Otherwise he would go bother the girls in the common room until one relented and let him snog them. 

James had a peek into the cauldron before he dropped the feather into it. It was a nice, purply red colour and there were feathery swivels of steam that rose from it. They would have no problems dosing the Slytherin’s breakfast with this. James watched the black feather float down and Sirius stirred anti-clockwise a few times as the feather was absorbed. The colour changed to something lighter and a few sparks flew up into the air. James gave Sirius an approving clap on the back and then dug around for a bit of cloth to put over the cauldron for its overnight stew. He came up with a clean white shirt of his own and decided that it could be sacrificed to the cause. Sirius had stopped stirring and was poking his wand at the portable purple flames he and James had invented together, after Remus had showed them an incantation for lukewarm blue ones that could be scooped up in one’s hand. Their tweaking of the incantation left them with flames that could still be moved manually if needed but that burnt a bit hotter, were bigger and better suited to some of the potions they brewed in the dormitory. 

“Want to come fly for a bit?” James asked and Sirius’s face lit up.

“Bet I can circle round the Forbidden Forest faster than you,” he said smugly and began rooting through his trunk for his broom. 

“Bet I can find fairy eggs from a tree before you do,” James countered.

Peter, who looked awed and a little envious, got out his Transfiguration book and went down to join Remus. 

“The swots need to write their essays, it seems,” Sirius commented a bit nastily. 

“I don’t think anybody but you could call Peter a swot,” James said affectionately. “Finished yours, then?” 

“I did it in less than an hour last night,” Sirius said and yawned for emphasis. James grinned but he wasn’t overly impressed as he had finished his in half an hour. Transfiguration was his best subject, but it was becoming frustratingly easy the older he got. He doubted there was anything even in the NEWT classes that would have given him a challenge at this point. 

He changed into muggle trousers and a large woolly jumper while Sirius paced the room impatiently. 

“Hurry up, I need to get out.”

“Antsy, Padfoot,” James muttered, but he was eager to get out himself. 

Peter and Remus were working together at the table and they both looked a bit wary as James passed them with Sirius in tow, but they needn’t worry to be interrupted this time. Neither was much good on a broom and James had a feeling this flight would escalate into a dangerous zipping through the trees in the forest. Sirius was clearly filled with pent-up energy tonight and James was a renowned speed devil on a broomstick. 

A good-looking girl from Hufflepuff tried to get Sirius’s attention as they passed her on the second floor, but Sirius didn’t even notice and James had to wave apologetically at her. Sirius had a one-track mind, and right now chasing birds of the grounded variety was not on.

They disillusioned themselves as soon as they were outside as they weren’t really allowed to fly in the grounds, let alone close to the Forbidden Forest. The charm didn’t work on the broomsticks, but once they were far enough away it shouldn’t matter much. Dusk was setting in and the grounds looked deserted except for the lights in Hagrid’s cabin. Sirius lit one of his disgusting cigarettes as they walked, James could smell the smoke and occasionally see the pinprick of orange light. He was unusually quiet, though, usually Sirius talked nonstop when he was going on overdrive. James took the opportunity to think about Evans, instead, and about the way the little hairs she had growing just above her ears would curl a little around her face, especially when the air outside was moist like it was right now. The temperature was above zero and the snow that had fallen earlier in the day had been water once it hit the ground. 

Soon they were able to kick off from the wet, dead grass on the ground and James outflew Sirius easily as they edged around the entirety of the Forbidden Forest. It took them half an hour and allowed for a majestic view of the mountains to the north and the east, the lake with the sunset to the west and the uneven landscape with Hogsmeade to the south. James had the better broom and he was the better flier, although Sirius took more risks and would occasionally gain on James when they flew along the dangerous mountainsides. He could hear his best mate’s laughter after a particularly gnarly curve, and soon after there was the sound of tumbling rocks. James snapped his head around, but he was immediately met with the laughing, backlit shadow of Sirius and the clear outline of his broom, massive rocks falling down the mountain some way behind him. 

Then they zig-zagged through the tall, dark trees, both choosing their own paths but staying close enough that James could hear the rustle from branches as Sirius hit them. He could hear a triumphant shout just as he himself spotted some ruby-like fairy eggs in a nest on a dark branch that might have been part of an elder tree. James swooped back and grabbed one, it felt oddly squishy in his hand. He heard some angry, shrill noises from behind and he quickly changed course to get out of the forest, shouting “retreat!” in the direction he’d last heard Sirius. 

He landed smoothly but almost fell over as Sirius touched down basically on top of him, laughing and grasping an egg tightly in his hand, too. 

“Draw”, James concluded and held onto his best friend. They were both sweaty after the flight, but the air had gotten colder with the sun’s decent and James’s teeth were already beginning to chatter.

“Who’s there?” boomed a suspicious voice, and both boys pressed the eggs into their trouser pockets. James lifted the disillusionment charm from both of them just as the light from the old-fashioned lantern Hagrid was clutching hit them. 

“What’s up, mate? Fine evening for it, innit?”

“Good to see you, Hagrid!”

“Potter an’ Black, shoulda known,” Hagrid growled, but his black eyes glittered kindly. “Not been out flyin’, have ye?” 

James flung his arm around Sirius and waved innocently with the broom in his other arm.

“Just out for a walk, me, and would you believe I found Sirius out here in the dark, polishing his broomstick. It was what I had planned to do tonight, too, so you can imagine my surprise!”

“Great minds think alike,” Sirius added, and Hagrid seemed to be laughing into his great wild beard.

“Alrigh’, then, yeh can save yer explanations fer someone else. Where’s yer two friends, then?”

“Probably in our dormitory, some boys polish their broomsticks in bed, you know,” Sirius said, and James giggled into his neck. 

Hagrid shook his massive, bushy head but he didn’t seem angry. He did, however, follow them to make sure they got back into the castle, but James didn’t mind. They had gotten their kicks for the night and he was quite looking forward to bed now. He’d have to get up early to take their potion to the kitchen.


	31. How come you taste so good? This time I'm really hooked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Rock'n Roll" by The Sounds.

Sirius tiptoed over the cold floor; eyes set on the golden red light that was coming from the drawn curtains around Remus’s bed. Probably reading a muggle novel or doing his homework in a fit of last-minute guilt, soundproofing spell in place to drown out the scratching noise of quill on parchment. They had Flitwick in the morning, and Flitwick really liked Remus and always swallowed every excuse Remus gave for handing in his essays a foot short or two days late. Remus, the twat, appeared to get gripped by an equally strong sense of bad conscience every single time it happened. He never learned to take advantage of the strange boons life dealt you.

“Hi,” Sirius whispered in greeting as he climbed in, closing the drapes and seating himself on top of Remus. He gently removed the parchment from his still hands, then methodically screwed on the cap for the ink bottle and put it away along with the quill.

Remus was staring at him with undisguised shock, hands still lifted as though holding on to the essay he’d been working on. Sirius looked back, smiling comfortingly and admiring the dark, honey-coloured eyes, framed in pretty, light brown lashes and with plentiful crow’s feet in the corners. Sirius moved his gaze down to Remus’s mouth, which was open in a question. Remus didn’t need to shave every day yet, but Sirius could see the light hairs around his upper lip and jaw, along with several small birthmarks and the irregular smatterings of freckles the Madagascar sun had brought out.

Sirius leaned in and kissed him, more softly and gently than he had ever kissed anyone. It felt like the right thing to do, felt like the sort of kiss Remus would appreciate. There was a slack-jawed pause before Remus kissed back, and even so it was very tentative, as if he was barely aware of what was happening. He tasted lovely, Sirius thought, one of the best things he’d ever had. He also felt soft and almost feverishly warm to the touch when Sirius stroked his ear and jaw and neck. He did it again, knuckles skimming over Remus’s jaw, which felt tense, and the side of his neck, which was swallowing. It felt funny and the corners of Sirius’s mouth wanted to pull upwards, he had to fight the sudden urge to laugh onto Remus’s tasty, soft lips.

It never did get boring, to Sirius’s surprise, even though he kept himself in check, kept his tongue in check, kissing his friend softly and carefully and very, very slowly. It was one of the most comfortable things he’d done, rarely had Sirius felt more at ease. The excellent sensations in his lower stomach were there in much the same way as he had gotten used to whenever he got this close to girls, but at the same time this felt as simple and right as kissing yourself might feel, had it been possible without advanced and dangerous magic. 

“What are you doing?” Remus whispered. Sirius had stopped just for a moment so that he could get into bed properly, he needed to feel all of Remus’s body against his own and getting under the covers seemed like the right way to go about it. 

“I’m just getting comfortable. Are you ok?”

Remus stared at him, still with that same confusion on his face. Sirius stretched out on his side, left arm and leg going over Remus’s body, leg over his thighs and hand turning Remus’s face until they were nose to nose again. Remus frowned and looked into Sirius’s eyes as if he was trying to decipher a difficult arithmancy calculation. Sirius wasn’t interested in being the object of that type of scrutiny tonight, and he inched back into Remus’s space, this time using his tongue as well as his lips as he set to work on Remus’s mouth. Remus made a weird little noise as Sirius opened him up, but it quickly turned into a moan and Remus’s eyes fell shut. Sirius blinked and was gone too as his tongue stroked around, touching Remus’s lips and teeth and tongue, taking it and sucking it into his mouth. He let it go, then followed it back into Remus’s mouth, changed the angle to get further in…

Remus’s breathing changed, much like a motorbike changing gear. He’d been breathing quickly and shallowly before, now the breaths he was taking were deep and shuddering. Sirius’s hand was drawn almost as if through magnetism to the other boy’s chest, fingers searching until he could feel a heartbeat, fast and strong and sexy. Sirius whined. He wanted to be closer and his hand continued quickly and deliberately down Remus’s stomach, fluttering muscles blending with soft and cushiony fat and pointy ribs until he found the hem of the t-shirt Remus was sleeping in and he moved his hand underneath it, tracing the same, lovely belly on the way back up to Remus’s heart. Remus’s hand had come up as if to push Sirius’s exploring hand away, but he hadn’t moved fast enough and now that hand fell defeatedly back by Remus’s side and instead he arched up from the bed, suddenly nothing but eager for Sirius’s touch. Remus moving his body up and down was excellent as far as Sirius was concerned since his every move lent friction to Sirius’s prick. He had been aroused all day, thinking about having sex and thinking about Remus’s body, two not mutually exclusive things, and now that part of his anatomy was pressed against Remus’s upper thigh, a thigh that flexed and moved in a steady, comforting pattern.

What he needed even more was to help Remus get off, though, and without any input from his conscious brain he soon found his palm mapping out Remus’s hard prick, hand having apparently migrated down the stomach again. 

Sirius stopped controlling the kiss, leaving Remus to clumsily thrust their tongues together. He had already known that Remus was intimidatingly big; they’d all asked him about it, but he said he didn’t know whether this had to do with his werewolf blood or whether he was just well-endowed anyway. It felt nothing short of miraculous under his hand, and even better once he slid his hand into Remus’s pants and felt the warm, throbbing flesh directly. Remus had stopped kissing him, too distracted to focus, but their lips still touched and Remus was panting into his mouth like a madman.

“Can I take you in my mouth?” Sirius whispered, giddy and lightheaded but trying to keep everything together. 

Remus’s eyes flew open, they were so close that it was a bit disconcerting. Sirius could see every speck of gold and brown and light blue in Remus’s eyes, every little wrinkle around his eyes and on his brow as he frowned in confusion. 

“You want to -?” Remus’s voice trailed off, and Sirius didn’t really care where that question was going. He got up on shaking knees and arms, his own underwear tented and bobbing ridiculously as he moved. He got in between Remus’s legs, and the other boy moved onto his elbows to watch. His facial expression suggested he thought he had misunderstood something vital, but Sirius wasn’t really paying attention to that anymore. 

He lifted the erection from Remus’s stomach reverently using both hands, foreskin sliding down, and put the engorged head into his mouth. It was almost as tasty as Remus’s mouth, stronger flavour, squishy and hard at the same time and so very vulnerable under the careful touch of his tongue. Sirius barely had time to try to suck the way girls did on him before Remus let out a desperate moan and bucked his hips. Warm spunk shot out and splashed the roof of his mouth. 

Sirius swallowed and let the cock slip out past his lips. He changed his mind and took it back, licking the whole length thoroughly, curious as to how much it would shrink. Remus was whimpering and moaning uncontrollably, sometimes punctuated by the word “sorry”, although Sirius couldn’t think what he was apologizing for. He’d shot his load almost as fast the first time Marlene had sucked him off, maybe he should tell Remus that? He waited until Remus had calmed down a bit, then moved back up to his side, snaking his arms around Remus as he settled back in. Remus seemed oddly anxious, still, and Sirius dragged him onto himself, Remus’s face settling at the side of his neck as if he wanted to hide. He was so warm and smelt of soap and sweat and nerves. The whole boy was shaking.

“Was it bad?” Sirius whispered almost angrily as the idea hit him. Maybe it hadn’t felt good for Remus? Not that he could understand how it wouldn’t have felt good, it had been his mouth for Merlin’s sake. Surely nothing could be superior to that?

“No, ‘s’good”, Remus muttered into his neck. 

“Can I try it again then? I want to test it out, and maybe you won’t come as quickly now that you’ve had an orgasm?” 

There was rather a long pause, a shuddering intake of breath, but then: “OK.”

Sirius wasted no time but rolled them around to get Remus on his back again. His prick was still out, and Sirius lowered his mouth to it for the second time. He was able to fit it all in his mouth in its flaccid state, and he could feel Remus shudder underneath him from the contact. It tasted of warmth and salt and even a bit of some sweetness, but mostly of old saliva and clean sweat and it pulsed so very intriguingly against his tongue.

Sirius would probably have laughed at the weirdness and absurdity of what he’d put in his mouth, but he found that it took a lot of effort to keep his teeth away from the soft flesh. It also didn’t remain soft for long; Sirius could feel it growing alarmingly where it stretched out all the way through his mouth. He gave it a few wet sucks, which made Remus moan and Remus’s prick throb. There was liquid coming out of it, precum, probably just a little but it felt like an explosion of flavour in Sirius’s mouth. The prick got too long and he had to release it and lick it instead, thick red swollen inches straining out of folds of lightly freckled foreskin and pearly white beads promising another mouthful for Sirius, dribbling around and down the sore-looking head until he lapped them up. It was an oddly satisfying thing to be in charge of. So engrossed was he that he forgot about everything else for a bit, even his own prick which he had been reflexively rubbing against the mattress. He wasn’t sure how long he was at it, but at some point he remembered that there was a body attached to his new plaything and he looked up to try and gauge what Remus was thinking. His friend was staring at him through half-lidded eyes, breathing deeply and smiling worriedly, as if he still wasn’t sure what was happening. 

Sirius took the exposed head fully into his mouth and tried to squeeze the spit-slick root with his hand, slowly moving hand towards mouth. Remus’s hips bucked up against him in response and there was a strangled moan. The movement forced a lot more of the length into Sirius’s mouth than he'd planned for and he tried valiantly not to gag on it. It was a challenging new game he had discovered for himself, but he definitely liked it. The texture was very nice both in his hand and his mouth, and although the come and precum were quite disgusting Sirius found it appealing all the same, rather like muggle lager or Marmite. It was good he did, too, as Remus’s hips wouldn’t stop bucking and he was soon flooding Sirius’s mouth for a second time. This time Sirius was ready for it and he took great pleasure in teasing the leaking slit at the head with the tip of his tongue. It had Remus writhing like a man possessed in the bed, almost pushing Sirius off and making him laugh, a difficult premise with his mouth occupied the way it was.

“Please get off now, I’m too sensitive!” Remus was panting loudly and looking imploringly at him, and Sirius had to release him. He swallowed the remains in his mouth and dragged his tongue experimentally around his own mouth and his rows of teeth. Everything tasted of spunk.

“I need to get off now, too,” Sirius told him, tugging on himself as he crawled back up to be able to lie down next to Remus. The bed was barely big enough for two, and he had to plaster his body to Remus’s to fit. They were both overheating, Sirius could feel sweat dripping down his neck, could see a matching wetness on Remus’s chest and neck and brow, but it didn’t make him feel uncomfortable. Sirius stroked his hand down the treasure trail on his lower stomach.

Remus watched with large eyes as he got out his prick, wet his hand with spit and began wanking. 

Sirius didn’t mind an audience in any aspect of his life, but the pleasure soon overcame him and made his eyes close as he edged closer and closer to orgasm. He felt a tentative hand by his hip, slowly tracing his hipbone and then the trail of hair on his stomach. His already fast hand got more aggressive, at odds with the sweet way Remus was touching him, and then he came with a rough groan, hips lifting momentarily from the bed. 

When he opened his eyes, Remus gave his softening and over-sensitive prick a quick and uncertain stroke and Sirius shuddered and wondered if he would have liked to be included more in getting Sirius off. Too late to ask now, though. He trailed a hand through the thin white ropes of come he had left on his belly and had a taste, just to check if there was a difference in flavour. He thought there probably was, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what. He had some more, licking it off his fingers, one fingertip at a time. Remus was staring at him oddly (again), and Sirius explained that he was comparing tastes. 

“Did you like it, then?” Remus asked and ducked his head in apparent embarrassment. 

“Yeah, but it’s proper weird,” Sirius tried and failed to explain, then rubbed some more on his index finger. “Here.”

Remus looked shocked and a little disgusted to be presented with Sirius’s spunk on a finger, but then something else flashed across his face and he opened his mouth a little. Sirius thrust the finger in, grinning as Remus’s cute pink tongue came to meet it. 

“That’s gross,” Remus told him, but he did smile in that mischievous Moony way Sirius liked so well. Sirius took Remus’s discarded t-shirt and cleaned up the rest of his come, which Remus took as a slight bad enough to wrestle Sirius for. Sirius kissed him again, with tongue, to make sure Remus got to try some more spunk. He didn’t seem to mind that much, and he kissed Sirius back as they rolled around on the bed, still pretending to wrestle although it involved a lot of groping. Remus got bolder and bolder, but Sirius could feel true exhaustion now that his mind had been put to rest.

“I need to get back to my own bed,” said Sirius finally. He could tell Remus was getting hard again, and as much as he had enjoyed this, he was too tired to offer Moony a third blowjob. 

“OK. Sirius, why did you…” Remus’s voice died in his throat and there was an odd look in his face Sirius couldn’t decipher. Remus stuttered some more, then tried again: “Are you telling James about this… Whatever this was?”

“I don’t have to,” said Sirius, who hadn’t really thought about it. “You’re a bit embarrassed about it, aren’t you?”

Remus gave him another strange look, then he shrugged. He was blushing again, though, which made Sirius laugh and give his warm cheek a lewd lick. He jumped out of reach before Remus had time to strike him or wrestle him down again, then left for his own bed.


	32. They don't love you like I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

James woke Sirius up at half six. He was curled into a ball underneath his bedding and, in a rare turn of events, emerged from the depths with a smile on his face. They had a quick shower and took their bags and snuck down into the common room. There were a handful of seventh years there, yawning and poring over some great tomes. OWL:s were approaching for the fifth years just like NEWT:s were for the seventh years, but James didn’t think very many in their year were taking it all too seriously yet. 

“What should we do with the fairy eggs, you reckon?” James asked as they climbed through the portrait hole. He almost took out the map out of pure instinct before he remembered that they were allowed to be out at this time without having to worry about teachers or prefects catching them.

“I think there’s a weight-altering potion that contains fairy eggs,” Sirius mused. He was still looking unusually happy and James suspected he’d had a very nice dream, probably involving all players of the Holyhead Harpies. 

“That could be a winner,” James agreed. “I know there’s a few students here who would look dead funny with an extra stone or two.”

“Maybe in their tits,” Sirius said, and James closed his eyes dreamily for a few seconds. 

“Reckon there’s a potion out there that does that?”

“Bound to be, I swear Dotty’s chest was flat until this year.”

“That’s called puberty, you twat. Lily’s are perfect, though,” James mused as he pictured the breasts in question. 

“You’d say that even if she didn’t have any,” Sirius countered, and James could privately admit that he was right about that. There was no way he would say that out loud, though. 

“If you could change one thing about her appearance, what would it be?” Sirius asked when he got no reply. James frowned in confusion. Why would he change anything at all about her?

“Have her wear less clothes?” he suggested tentatively and Sirius tutted as if the suggestion was obscene. “Maybe more freckles,” James said then, and something surprisingly sweet showed momentarily in Sirius’s eyes.

“Freckles are nice, aren’t they?” he said, and James nodded emphatically. They walked past a few bleary-eyed Hufflepuffs who were already walking in the direction of the Great Hall. James upped their pace and soon they were in the corridor with the portrait with the fruit bowl that led into the kitchens. He had a furtive look around before he tickled the pear, then he threw the cloak over himself and crawled in before Sirius. 

“Gather round, everybody!” Sirius shouted commandingly as soon as he was through. James dodged the elves that came scurrying towards Sirius and he edged his way towards the second table in the kitchen, which was the one that was placed right underneath the Slytherin table. He added some potion to each pot of jam he saw, and some into the pitchers of pumpkin juice for good measure. 

Sirius was babbling some nonsense about how he had overheard the Professors saying they would like to be brought anis seed vodka every morning in their private chambers to combat the flu season, and whether the house-elves might know how to either make it or procure it. 

“Remember now, they would like a shot glass each, except for Professor Dumbledore who would like a goblet full of the stuff.” Sirius’s voice was commanding and aristocratic when he spoke to the house-elves, and James thought he sounded ridiculous. He’d give himself away if he started laughing, though, so instead he took great pains to keep silent as he edged back towards his best mate. Most of the elves had returned to their stations as it became clear that Sirius’s demands wouldn’t actually require everybody’s attention, after all. James prodded Sirius on the shoulder through his cloak and he abruptly stopped telling the elves about Dumbledore’s drinking habits. 

“Terribly sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy preparing our breakfast,” he said instead and started moving back to the portrait-covered exit. “Smells delicious as always, carry on!”

“Goodbye, mister Black!” one of the little elves squeaked and James slipped past Sirius’s arm, which was holding open the portrait. 

“Think they’ll bring booze for the professors tomorrow morning?” James asked as he removed the cloak. The corridor was empty, although footsteps and eager voices could be heard not far away. 

“They’ll probably check with one of the professors first,” Sirius replied with a shrug. “But maybe, if we’re lucky.”

“Isn’t anis seed the one that tastes awful?” James asked with a grin and fell into step with Sirius. His stomach was rumbling from all the lovely smells they had been surrounded by in the kitchen.

“No, it’s bloody delicious you wanker,” Sirius said patronizingly. “Is the potion in the jam?”

“Yes. Also, in the pumpkin juice.”

The Great Hall was almost empty, still, as the clock was barely past seven. James had time to eat two helpings of eggs and bacon and fried tomatoes before Remus and Peter showed up, both yawning and Peter looking excited and Remus worried. 

James tucked into an apple while Sirius started bothering Remus until he was smiling. Peter kept turning his head to look at the Slytherin table, which might easily give them away and James finally had to tell Peter as much. 

After eight there was a low swooshing and it very quickly deteriorated into petrified screaming from the next table. James turned around and watched, heartily laughing, as Regulus Black sprinted past, arms protectively over his head. He wasn’t the only one, either, there was quite the stampede and soon there were only a dozen stunned-looking student left at the Slytherin table, although one of them had fainted spectacularly over the bench. There were about thirty owls on the table, all of their faces had swivelled towards the doors to the Great Hall where the recipients of their letters had exited out of. 

“It’s not fair on the little ones,” Remus whispered with a frown on his face, the fainted student was small enough to be a first year. James was laughing too hard to reply, though, the confusion in the eyes of the owls and the few remaining Slytherin students was priceless. 

“Time to act naturally,” Sirius whispered as several teachers descended on the Slytherin table to ask what had happened. Slughorn huffed like the Hogwarts Express as he tried to jog past the table chasing after the students who had run off. Professor McGonagall turned suddenly and scanned the Gryffindor table, and James tried to show only polite amusement as her eyes found his. Her lips were a thin white line as her eyes moved from him to rest at the other Marauders in turn. Peter squealed next to James, but fortunately he did it quietly.

There was plenty of laughter and giggles around them and James finished his breakfast with a fourth helping of bacon and eggs. He was at peace with himself after such a spectacularly well-executed prank and he didn’t really mind that there was a risk that they’d get caught. This was a hard one to pin on anyone.


	33. If I tell the world I'll never say enough, 'cause it was not said to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Chasing Pavements" by Adele.

Peter watched with hidden amusement as Sirius dabbed some deep blue makeup around his eyes. He had put on makeup for the last common room party as well, but other than that he hadn’t seemed as keen on it after Christmas as he had been before. Presumably, the potential of upsetting his parents, should word get to them about his sense of style, had accounted for more than half of the allure of painting his face like a muggle rock star. Peter knew better than to comment on any of it by now, it was really only James who got away with teasing Sirius for his weird, mildly provocative statements.

James was spending the evening at quidditch practice and Remus had threatened to hex Sirius if he wasn’t allowed to finish his Charms homework in peace. Sirius, who would usually not be swayed by such a threat, had to Peter’s surprise grinned and said “fine, as long as you’re free later”. Then Sirius had thrown his arm around Peter and in exceptionally good spirits told him they would go for a walk. 

Makeup applied and deemed ‘stunning’ by Sirius himself, Peter was steered into the castle. As a rule when Sirius got bored (which always seemed to happen when James was busy) he would go bother some unsuspecting girl until she snogged him, but today his mind seemed to be elsewhere as he told Peter scandalous stories he had read about Marc Bolan in a muggle magazine and about a recent late-night talk he had had with Sir Cadogan, a firm favourite of the Marauders. It was rare that Peter spent one-on-one time with Sirius, and even rarer that those occasions were mutually enjoyable, but today was off to a good start. 

They saw Snape lurking not far from the portrait hole, whether to spy on the Marauders or on Lily Evans was anybody’s guess, but they didn’t even shout abuse or aim hexes his way as Sirius was that far into an anecdote that he didn’t care. Peter noticed a group of seventh year Hufflepuff girls shooting Sirius an appraising look when they passed, and Peter pushed his chest out proudly, soaking up the benefits of being Sirius’s friend. He didn’t even seem to notice them.

Peter remembered that he had the map on him, and together they stepped in behind the tapestry of Ingalill the Innocent with the unicorns, which was on the third floor. Peter suggested the Greenhouses, as they were all empty, which was unusual and should be exploited. They located Sprout halfway to Hogsmeade, which meant they would have it to themselves for an hour at least. 

It was a windy evening and the skies were threatening rain or slush, and there was nobody about outside. Peter almost skipped along after Sirius, whose long legs were taking him through the muddy grounds at a fast pace. They picked Greenhouse number four, although it took Sirius almost a minute to undo the locking charm and the alarm Professor Sprout had put on the door. It wasn’t a greenhouse they had ever had lessons in, and as they entered, it turned out to be much less crammed than Greenhouse one through three, the ones they were more intimately familiar with. 

Peter wasn’t half bad at Herbology, and he felt mostly at ease walking through the place. He also seemed to have developed an extra sense for discerning the approach of authority figures ever since he became an animagus, and he felt moderately confident that he would notice any teacher before they got caught. 

Peter strolled over to the artificial pond in the middle of the greenhouse, which contained a single huge waterlily pad complete with a huge silver white flower that was humming excitedly. 

“Do you reckon it’s strong enough for us to sit on?” Sirius asked him.

“Only one way to find out,” Peter said reverently, and he held his breath as Sirius, supporting himself with one hand on Peter’s shoulder, carefully stepped onto the massive floating leaf. A roar of triumph went through both boys as the mission was successful, and Sirius raised his fists above his head in victory, looking majestic for all of a second. Then the pad rippled and shuffled him off violently, making him submerge one foot in the pond in his haste to get back on land, and the silver white flower was suddenly hissing at them like an angry cat, rising as though it had its own agency and making one of its petals scrunch up into a makeshift fist that gave Sirius a sound smack on the jaw. Sirius stumbled back and fell on his bum.

Peter quickly helped Sirius up, he was laughing too hard to do much else to help, but fortunately Sirius found it funny as well and was grinning and carefully running his hand over the red mark on his jaw the flower’s fist had left behind. 

“Now we know,” Sirius concluded reasonably enough, then he had to empty his expensive-looking black boot of water. Peter cackled. 

The water lily was by far the most interesting plant in Greenhouse number four. There were different things along the wall, all ugly and most completely quiet and unmoving, and as there wasn’t any nameplates the boys had no way of knowing what sort of plants the rest were. 

They went out and stood in the space between Greenhouse three and four where the wind couldn’t reach them and Sirius lit up a fag, even remembering to ask Peter if he wanted one. He didn’t, but he did appreciate the sentiment and wondered what could have put Sirius into such a good mood. 

“The Ravenclaw game is coming up soon, maybe we could have a proper Marauders’ piss-up after that?” Peter suggested. “Once James is released from the clutches of being Gryffindor’s top chaser, I mean.”

“I’m in.”

Sirius smiled almost sweetly and blew some smoke to the side rather than into Peter’s face. He didn’t look as if he was bothered with James’s increasingly limited spare time (Sirius time) at all. 

“Are you seeing a girl?” Peter asked, the facts suddenly clicking into place. 

“Why would it be a girl?” Sirius said, sounding almost disinterested, but Peter was certain he was on the right track.

“Properly seeing one, I mean,” Peter elaborated eagerly. “Not just shagging, but like, _seeing_ seeing.”

Sirius gave him a bewildered look and took a deep drag on his cigarette. 

“You are, aren’t you?” Peter insisted, lowering his voice. “It’s someone a bit wrong, isn’t it?”

Sirius’s beautiful eyes flashed with anger, but Peter knew Sirius too well to be fooled. Sirius always defaulted to anger when another emotion got the better of him, and this meant he was really feeling something quite different.

“Does James know?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Sirius said.

“Is it a professor?” Peter yelped, feeling flustered and worried and a bit shocked. Not as shocked as he should’ve been, mind. It all made sense now. 

“What the fuck, Peter?” Sirius gave him half a smile and shook his head. 

“No? It’s not Marlene again, is it?” Peter continued, but he felt almost hopeful that it was. Marlene was (as far as he knew) the only girl Sirius had spent more than a week ‘seeing’, and the pair of them had shagged in the Marauders’ dormitory back in third year. A lot. 

“We’re better as friends,” Sirius said and vanished his cigarette butt.

“You said she was an amazing shag,” Peter reminded him, still searching his mate’s face for clues. 

“We were thirteen, Peter,” Sirius said with exaggerated patience, although what he was trying to say was lost on Peter. Did that mean she hadn’t actually been good? “Never mind, Wormy, ‘course she's good in bed. She’s as depraved as I am.”

“So why wouldn’t you…?”

“Because we’re better as friends, trust me.” Sirius looked a bit angry again, but Peter couldn’t read him as well as he would like to.

“Better as friends,” Peter repeated thoughtfully, and for a full second he thought he could see some real panic in Sirius’s eyes. “Is it Maria Arden?” he asked next, although that was truly more wishful thinking than anything else. Maria was a seventh year and the most attractive girl in the whole school. She had gone on dates with all of the quidditch team captains, probably as the result of a bet or to prove a point, but otherwise she didn’t really date. Besides, she was out of even Sirius’s league. Two years age difference would do that, Peter supposed.

“I’m not ‘seeing’ anyone, Wormy. No point to it, anyway.”

Peter hid a smirk behind his hand, not really caring if Sirius knew he was being patronized or not. He rarely had cause to feel sorry for Sirius, but someone who was damaged enough not to be able to see the perks of dating did merit just that. Then a horrific thought struck him.

“It’s not Pippa, is it?” he whispered, wringing his hands miserably as he waited for the blow to fall. That level of bliss surely could only mean one girl…

“Pippa who?” Sirius said confusedly. “You’re starting to weird me out, Wormy, I’m going to go find Remus.”

Peter released the breath he had been holding in, slowly and measuredly and doing his best to piece his frayed nerves back together. Unless Sirius was playing an elaborate game of some sort, he had not gotten his claws into Pippa.


	34. I told you to be balanced and I told you to be kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver.

Remus had yet to turn on the shower, he was that deep in thought. He caressed his body wonderingly. As a rule, he felt hostility towards his body. Some parts he felt indifferent about, and several he disliked with a quiet, sort of simmering, emotion. One or two he actively hated. He had barely even entertained the idea that anybody might want to touch him (only in daydreams where he wasn’t a werewolf, or at least didn’t have a massive bloody scar on his hip) and now Sirius had, just like that. 

Remus had thought it was a joke at first, maybe some elaborate prank Sirius had concocted with James. He would never have considered that it could be sexual in nature when Sirius jumped on top of him and meticulously put away his essay materials for him. But then Sirius had leaned in and kissed him. Sirius had told him he was thinking about snogging Remus earlier that day, but of course Remus had thought it was a joke that was delivered too deadpan and as such fell flat. But Sirius, it would appear, had been serious.

It had felt fantastic. And to think he had been so close to pushing Sirius away and telling him to stop. What he knew now was something he would have hated to have missed out on. He could more than understand why Sirius snuck off with girls whenever they were easy enough not to require much talking to if this was what he was getting out of it. And here, really, they came to the crux of the matter. Girls.

Sirius had exclusively been with girls, as far as Remus knew, and Remus had certainly never thought he might prefer boys to girls. That would suggest that neither of them was properly bent. And yet, it had felt fantastic. Both the snogging and the sucking off. Remus had been well turned on by the knowledge that it was Sirius between his legs, he hadn’t needed to pretend that it was a nameless girl or anything like that. Sirius had been quite enough on his own. 

And Sirius had gotten off on it too, hadn’t he? He had certainly instigated it, and in typical Sirius-fashion he had acted as if it was self-evident that he wanted to suck Remus off, that it went without question that Remus, too, would like Sirius’s head bobbing between his legs on a Sunday night. That was the way Sirius was, Remus tried to tell himself, he didn’t really stop long enough to see other perspectives on matters, and he came with ready-formed opinions and ways of doing things. That other people might find him odd or even wrong didn’t enter his head unless, of course, those ‘other people’ were the enemy. The enemy had different opinions to him and did things differently, and sometimes that was how Remus thought his friend divided up the world around him. From what the intel from last night had left Remus with, he thought it very likely that Sirius was bisexual and simply hadn’t realized that not everyone else was, too. 

And where did that leave Remus? He didn’t think he would be interested in any other boys. Sirius was beautiful, though, much more beautiful than any other male of the species Remus had seen (although this was admittedly not an issue he had given any thought to before now). He was also more beautiful than just about any girl or woman he could think of. Maybe the fact that Sirius was stunning, and the fact that he was completely uninhibited and mind-blowingly arrogant, made it alright? Or did this deconstruct everything Remus had thought he knew about his own sexuality?

He finally stepped in under the shower, which he had forgotten he was meant to do as he mulled recent events over. All this thinking had had a telling effect on him, though, and Remus carefully stroked his achingly hard cock. It was absurd to think that someone else had been touching it, kissing it...

“Mind if I join?”

Of course it was Sirius, who else would think that it was a brilliant idea to break into an occupied shower stall? He was wearing dark purple makeup around his eyes and had a nasty bruise on his jaw which hadn’t been there before, and Remus wanted to touch it, kiss it. Maybe he was a little bit bent after all.

Any embarrassment he should have felt about being naked and hard in the same space as another human being was promptly forced into the backseat by Sirius, who gave Remus a quick smile before sinking down on his knees in front of Remus. Remus’s first reaction was to step back, but Sirius’s hands were there on his hips reeling him in before he could get away. One of the hands carelessly caressed the foul white and pink bitemark that marred his hip, the one made from a massive set of jaws eleven years ago. It was as if Sirius didn’t even see how ugly it was.

“I think you deserve a break after all that hard essay writing.”

Sirius gave him a grin he combined with a devious glint in his diamond-like eyes, then his mouth devoured the tip of Remus’s cock uncoordinatedly. It was uncoordinated because Remus’s hips thrust out without giving either boy any warning, but it didn’t look as if Sirius minded being slapped in the face with an erection, and so Remus swallowed down his apologies together with a whimper. It just felt too good, he had no idea what to do with himself or how to pace himself. He was sucked on, licked, then pushed back and forth between indecently stretched, lush lips. There were moans too, the really really good kind. Some of the water from the shower hit Sirius and the blue mascara was smudging, some of it dripping like a fake tear over his cheek. His long black hair was curling from the moisture. Sirius’s tongue came all the way out his mouth with a vulgar noise, attempting to get at more of Remus’s prick and it was the sexiest thing Remus had ever seen. 

“I won’t last,” he managed to stutter out, holding onto his orgasm for dear life, and then releasing when no ceasefire was granted. Through his blissfully half-closed eyes he could see the white come filling Sirius’s mouth, in fact he suspected that Sirius kept his mouth open precisely to give Remus a bird’s eye view of what this mutual accomplishment looked like. 

“Fuck,” he whispered incoherently, which made Sirius grin, some of the spunk slipped out and dribbled down his bruised jaw. Remus could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the rest of it. Why Sirius would want that in his mouth was beyond Remus. Surely it was well-known that the stuff tasted disgusting? But maybe that was part of the appeal for his rebel friend.

Sirius got up with a grace Remus was sure few people in the same situation would have had, still grinning and of course deciding to give Remus an open-mouthed, tongue-heavy kiss. As unappetizing as Remus found it his sense of fair play made it clear to him that if Sirius wanted to kiss him with that mouth then Sirius got to kiss him with that mouth, and he mustn’t grumble. The invading tongue felt too nice to pass up on and Remus felt almost upset when it withdrew. Sirius turned to the shower and walked in under it with his face tilted towards the shower head, mouth open again and filling with water. Remus smiled indulgently and let his eyes trail down Sirius’s face and body. 

The mascara was painting him properly now, it looked less seductive and more like a modern art piece. His recently bruised knees added to the debauched undertones. His body was all chiselled Athenian marble, though, Apollo or Eros would have been pleased to be depicted with this body. Sirius had thoroughly grown into his broad frame, and yet it formed a curious juxtaposition to the gold and the glitter and the makeup he had been donning at all inappropriate occasions since last year. His arms and chest and stomach and thighs all looked like those of a grown man, complete with lightly defined muscles and neat black hair in all the right places. Remus even let himself look at Sirius’s prick, because bent or not he was engaging in gay sex with his best friend. When hard, like now, Sirius was big and exquisitely proportioned to the rest of his body. Not like, say, freak werewolves who were scrawny and skinny in some places and then much too large in others. 

Remus made a conscious effort to push the bad thoughts away, then he moved into the spray which Sirius had already abandoned in favour of the liquid soap by the wall. Remus watched with flushed cheeks as Sirius started wanking with the aid of the soap, small moans and grunts rolling unabashedly off his tongue. When he opened his eyes and winked, Remus gathered his courage and advanced on him, pushing one of his own hands into the mix. Sirius grinned happily and leant back towards the wall, own arms forming a nonchalant angle behind his head and leaving his prick for Remus to deal with. Remus avoided looking at Sirius’s face since he was scared he would be laughed at, clueless as he was. Remus hadn’t been sure he had the guts to reciprocate, but lending a hand wasn’t quite as daunting as letting Sirius have his mouth. 

When Sirius’s moans grew louder Remus tried to grip harder, which was difficult with the slippery soap coating everything. Sirius suddenly wrenched him in, cupping his face and kissing him. It was much lighter than expected, not bruisingly hard or with nipping teeth. There was a messy and teasing tongue and filthy sound effects, though. It also was hot enough a kiss that Remus barely noticed when Sirius shot his load, nor did he mind much that almost all of it landed on him. It was easy to clean up in the shower, after all, and he felt oddly proud with this latest accomplishment. Giving someone else a successful handjob was not something everyone could boast with, after all. 

Not that Remus would ever be able to boast about this of course, it was much too weird for that. And Remus wasn’t much good at boasting, anyway, that was more Sirius’s and James’s department.


	35. I am just a modern guy, of course I've had it in my ear before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life".

“I heard you and Moony in the shower yesterday.” 

James hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, but he figured it was better out than in.

“Oh.” Sirius gave him an appraising look. “What, you want to as well? I thought we’d established that you only have eyes for Evans.”

James, who had expected Sirius to tell him that it was all an elaborate prank, felt his jaw drop.

“Of course I sodding well only want Evans! Blimey, Sirius, you’re both boys!”

Sirius looked mostly confused.

“Why did you...? I mean, _what_ did you...?” James wasn’t sure what he wanted to know, exactly, but he did feel like he was owed an explanation.

“Well, I realized I quite like the way Moony looks and then he was well up for it. Figured he deserves to get laid, too, poor bugger. I’ve never sucked cock before, been wanting to try for ages. And we’ve all seen how gifted he is down below… I figured I should either go big or go home.”

James made a retching noise, which made Sirius laugh around a word that could have been ‘exactly’.

“Can you do me a favour and not tell Moony you know, though? I got the impression he doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Sure,” James said, then he hesitated. “Padfoot, I just… I mean, no offence, but I’m still a bit surprised. You’ve been with more witches than anyone in the school, I’m sure...”

James looked appealingly at his best friend, willing him to understand what the problem was.

“That’s a bit generous, innit? And I definitely haven’t been with the most wizards, so I have my work cut out for me. Marlene better watch out.”

“Merlin’s beard,” James muttered, but Sirius just laughed at him again. “You and Moony aren’t together then, or anything?”

Sirius choked on his own laughter, which was as good an answer as any.

“’Course not, you’re the one who wants that sort of a relationship!”

“Yeah, but with a _girl_ , Padfoot, with _Lily_ ,” James tried to explain, but he was sensing that Sirius either knew exactly what he was driving at and wasn’t having it, or he simply had no idea that most wizards went exclusively for witches and weren’t interested in the slightest in what it felt like to suck cock. Although, James mused, with his own limited experience how could he be sure? “Never mind, you experiment all you like. I’m sure Moony appreciates it,” James continued generously.

Sirius grinned smugly.

“That goes without saying, mate, obviously I’m brilliant at sex.”

James pulled a face but decided to drop it. There was only so much you could do when you were faced with Sirius’s limitless arrogance. 

“How’s our herbology project coming along?”

“Which one?”

James raked his brains for what else they had on the go, but he came up short.

“The variety we’re meant to smoke.”

“The marijuana stickling? It’s growing on top of Peter’s canopy. Might be ready to be crossbred with the alihotsy.” Sirius waved his wand as he spoke and the flowerpot with its tiny leafy inhabitant came soaring gracefully down from the top of Peter’s bed. 

“Do we know how to crossbreed plants?” James mused as he poked the little plant carefully with his finger. Nothing of interest happened.

“Can’t be that hard,” said Sirius dismissively. “Time to go raid Greenhouse two?” 

“Alihotsy is a tree, right?” James checked and Sirius nodded impatiently, already moving towards the door. James shrugged and grabbed the cloak. There were probably lessons still happening in Greenhouse two at this hour.

Most of the corridors were empty as they walked through the castle, the last lesson of the day was still ongoing, and it was a while yet until dinner. They walked past Lily and Mary Macdonald who looked as if they were heading for the library. Lily looked radiant in some new purple earrings, but she barely spared them a glowering look. Soon after they had to dodge a vicious hair-loss hex from Snivellus, who was probably stalking Lily as usual. He’d taken his shot from the end of a corridor and disappeared before they could see more than a hint of grease and billowing black robes. They shared a look but as the hex had missed them (it had hit a suit of armour instead and made its helmet rust) they wordlessly decided that they could retaliate the next time they happened upon the greasy tosser. 

James threw the cloak over himself and Sirius as soon as the greenhouses came into view, and as he had suspected Professor Sprout was in residence showing off mandrakes to what were probably second years. 

James ripped a couple of leaves off an evergreen elephant-tree to transfigure and Sirius began conjuring from thin air. Soon they were both in possession of earmuffs; James’s were a fluffy green not dissimilar to the colour of Lily’s eyes and Sirius’s were neat and sleek and black. They looked at each other for half a second, daring the other to admit it if they didn’t think their new earmuffs would be soundproof enough to stave off aural damage. Neither would ever admit to such a failure, of course, James thought they’d probably both prefer a week in the hospital wing. It was lucky they were both so skilled, really. 

Armed with their earmuffs and hidden underneath the cloak they snuck into the greenhouse, which turned out to be child’s play. The students had a lot on their hands and of course they couldn’t hear anything over their earmuffs and the screaming plant life. Sprout was helping a pair of particularly desperate-looking 12-year-olds to force down a muddy and squirming mandrake into a flowerpot that looked much too small for it. James and Sirius strolled past with the arrogance of two invisible people who had stolen school property on a fortnightly basis for the past five years. They had both spotted the alihotsy tree, which was wearing earmuffs just like several other trees and shrubs in the greenhouse. It looked a bit as if it was laughing, clutching its branches to its trunk and doubling over. Second years and uprooted mandrakes were both funny-looking breeds, James supposed.

James stunned the tree and Sirius sliced off a thin branch with a few leaves on it from the back of the tree, just in case Sprout was more observant than they thought. They then left the same way and even got through most of the castle before the bell rang. 

Peter and Remus were apparently still busy with their homework and the dormitory remained empty, except for Mary Jane. She was perfectly still in her pot, very different to the alihotsy branch which was laughing in a slightly deranged way as Sirius put it down on his bed. 

It was surprisingly easy, after that, it was almost as if the alihotsy branch was eager to be fused with a plant again and didn’t really mind where it was put. It hugged Mary Jane like they were old friends and Sirius left it to James to use a severing charm on her as they only needed a small incision. Sirius’s magic had a bad habit of not knowing its own strength and the damage here needed to be minimal. Sirius insisted on performing the fusing charm, however, and James let him. Some people even argued that Sirius was the better at charms out of the two of them, and although James knew that to be bollocks, he supposed his friend could use the practice to further his skills. He watched with some interest as sparks flew from the two plants, the alihotsy branch giggling manically, and then something wet and sap-like formed around the cut where the plants were now joined. 

“If you’re not careful, Mary Shelley will rise from her grave and write a novel about the two of you,” came Remus’s voice from behind them. Both he and Peter were there, watching curiously as the new lifeform was created. 

“Who’s that?” James mouthed soundlessly to Sirius and Sirius pretended to yawn with the hand that wasn’t pointing a wand at the plant. He was watering it now, and the whole thing was swaying in the strong spray, reaching its leaves upwards as if to catch the droplets. 

“Bloody purebreds,” Remus told Peter, although James was fairly certain that Peter was even less likely than them to get Remus’s highbrow muggle references. 

“ _It’s alive!_ ” Peter said in a spooky voice, sounding as if he might be referencing something or other, and Remus grinned appreciatively. 

“That’s a horror film from the cinema,” Sirius told James with some pride and both Remus and Peter mock-applauded him. James was still none the wiser. 

“I think it liked mating with Mary Jane,” he said instead and watched the branches formerly of the alihotsy plant stop rubbing water onto itself and start feeling up its new hostess instead. It looked oddly rude for being plant life.

“Mary Jane as in…” Remus frowned and gave the plant renewed attention. James grinned proudly at him. 

“Lots of happy memories, eh Moony? We thought that a spliff still might hold the cure to your pre-moon symptoms, but with some modification. The new branch is alihotsy.”

The four boys watched in silence as the alihotsy branch caressed the stem, edging its finger-like branch closer and closer to the roots.

“Blimey,” James said hesitantly, it really did look all kinds of wrong. “Sirius told me Mary Jane is a muggle reference too, did we get that right?”

Remus nodded vaguely; eyes still transfixed on the plant. 

“We should probably rename it now that it’s branched out and become its own thing. What do you think?”

“Adam is the name of Frankenstein’s monster,” said Remus hesitantly. 

“There is something laddish about this, I reckon,” said James as the plant thrust the tip of a branch into the moist earth by the roots. “You’re the fingering expert, Padfoot, what do you reckon? Is it doing it right?”

“Fuck off,” Sirius said with a dramatic shudder. “Adam sounds about right, though. Monster, or first-born creation made by the god known as Sirius Black.”


	36. Every time you give yourself away it comes back to haunt you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Run Baby Run" by Garbage.

Peter did his best to help Moony with the powdered porcupine quills. It was the only thing Remus was supposed to be in charge of during their joint brewing of the Draught of Peace, but it seemed as if he had shook them either too much or too little, and they looked nothing like their potion book said they were supposed to look when added to the cauldron. 

“I asked him if it’s a professor,” Peter continued under his breath, and Remus leant forward to listen. “I mean, Professor Scarborough is married and all, but Padfoot isn’t really the type who would care about that, is he?”

“Professor Scarborough is over thirty years old!” Remus whisper-shouted, sounding beside himself with anxiety and drawing looks from Lily and Mary, who were working in front of them. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if Sirius and James had heard them, as they were busy laughing and shoving each other while they stirred in powdered porcupine quills that looked just right. Their potion suddenly turned a startling red, and Peter sighed and patted Moony comfortingly on the shoulder. 

“He told me he had sex with two adult muggle women last summer,” Peter said quietly, “at the same time. His father walked in when he had one sitting on his face, and one bouncing up and down on his –“

“Thank you, that’s quite enough!”

Remus looked sick, and Peter grinned mischievously and squirmed a little in his seat, battling with some unneeded arousal. Remus was a prude; no wonder Sirius hadn’t told him that story. Two women at once, though…

“God, he’s such a lothario,” Mary Macdonald whispered quite loudly, clearly revolted. Peter looked up nervously, not having realized that the girls had been able to hear him. Mary and Lily had both turned to look at Sirius, who was now arm-wrestling with James. (James was winning.) Lily looked more contemplative than disgusted.

“You really think he’s seeing someone, then?” Remus asked, so quiet Peter almost didn’t hear him over the noise of the fire underneath their cauldron. Peter gave the powdered porcupine quills another experimental shake. 

“Well, he says not. But something’s definitely up. At first I thought he might have his eyes on…”

“Who?” Remus asked, louder and still worried. 

“Forget it,” Peter said uncomfortably, remembering Pippa’s beautiful, small mouth. “Since he won’t say who, I thought maybe it’s someone he has to keep quiet about, and that’s why I thought it might be a professor.”

For the first time during their whispered conversation, Remus began to look at ease. He almost smiled, even.

“Quite a conclusion to jump to, Peter. Really, I mean our Defence Professor? That would be so out of order. No Hogwarts professor would do something like that. Besides, what would an adult see in a sixteen-year-old?”

Peter shrugged, feeling a little bit foolish now that it was put like that. He was grateful the subject had changed from Pippa, though, as Remus of course knew nothing of Pippa or Peter’s admiration for her. Or did he?

Remus looked as if he was thinking hard about something. The worry that settled so easily in the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth was there, but he also looked as if he had discovered a juicy secret.

“What is it?” Peter whispered, heart beating loudly in his chest, the half-finished potion of theirs forgotten. 

“Maybe he has taken an interest in someone. More than the usual, I mean.”

Remus was becoming red in the face from the fumes their cauldron was emitting, and Peter tentatively dumped some powdered porcupine quills into the mix. 

“Like Marlene, you mean? He basically told me that that was a mistake, that they had ‘depraved’ sex but that they were better off as friends. I think it would take someone very special to keep him interested, and this school only has a handful of that kind of people, Marlene being one of that lot.”

Remus bit his thumbnail, looking suddenly small and hopeless. The porcupine quills had set their whole potion on fire, and there were angry flames licking both on the inside and outside. Remus really was hopeless at potions. Peter sighed.

“Might be just as well we start again. We could practice our vanishing spells on the potion?”

“So what he’s doing with this mystery person right now, it’s just sex?” Remus said, making no move to get his wand out. Peter barely kept from sighing in exasperation. 

“This is Sirius we’re talking about. Of course it is.”

Remus didn’t respond.

“Even Marlene couldn’t keep him interested for longer than it took them to get through the magical Kama Sutra. I mean, I’m not saying it’s necessarily his fault,” Peter continued, now lowering his voice further. “I heard him talking to Prongs once, telling him about how his cousin used to… You know…”

Peter made a couple of rude hand gestures in the shield of their cauldron. Remus looked ready to vomit into said cauldron.

“Before he came to Hogwarts. That would fuck anyone up, fuck up what they think about… Fucking. About relationships and stuff. Evanesco!”

To Peter’s delight the charm worked immediately and the flames inside their cauldron disappeared, leaving nothing of note behind. 

“You’re right,” Remus said, staring forlornly into their empty cauldron. 

“I know, but it’s not the end of the world. We might even have time to finish a second batch. You read the instructions out to me and I’ll do it. Moonstone’s the first one, right?”

Remus flinched at the mention of moonstone, and Peter had to get the ingredient himself. 

“You need to relax and have some fun, Remus. Let’s hope Adam’s ripe enough to smoke, soon.”

Remus gave him a tired smile and bent down over the textbook. 

Peter managed to take them more than half-way through the potion with minimal input from Remus, and even though Slughorn looked less than impressed with the end-result, he did tell them their effort was ‘Acceptable’. Peter was happy with that.

“Maybe we should switch partners next week,” Sirius said. He was carrying James on his back and James was drumming a fast tattoo on the top of his head. 

“I’m useless,” Remus said quietly, making Peter and James laugh.

“I know, that’s why I’m suggesting we switch,” Sirius said impatiently. “Peter’s barely good enough to keep you two from a failing grade. Bet you’ll get an ‘Outstanding’ if you partner up with me.”

Remus turned bright red and Peter himself didn’t feel too great about the way this was phrased. Did Sirius even realize how much effort he had put into today’s lesson?

“That’s a tall order, Padfoot,” James said good-humouredly. He had stopped the drumming and was (unsuccessfully) attempting to braid Sirius’s hair instead. Peter lit up, realizing that this would mean he would get to brew a potion with James.

“I think it’s a great idea!” he said eagerly, a bit too loud and with his voice almost breaking.

Sirius snickered and Remus looked as if he was trying to not show how hurt he was. Peter only had eyes for James, though. 

“Sure, let’s give that constellation a go next week,” James said magnanimously, letting the tangled braid in Sirius’s hair go and reaching around to clap both Remus and Peter on the shoulder. Peter preened. 

“Wonder what’s for dinner?” Sirius said. He was still giving James a piggy-back ride.

“Lambeth told me I need to eat more,” James said, sounding almost sad about it. “Muscle development and all.”

“Maybe Evans will give you a chance if you bulk up,” Sirius said in a voice that made it clear that he was joking. James appeared to take him at face-value, however, and hummed hopefully.

“I can go ask the House Elves to make extra protein snacks for you,” Peter suggested eagerly, and since James turned around and gave him a grateful smile, Peter found it easy to ignore the derisive laughter coming from Sirius.


	37. You made us sit and watch, Gloria; no one said enough is enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Gloria" by The Lumineers.

“Remus, walk back with me to the tower?”

“Certainly,” Remus said, falling into step with Lily. The prefects’ meeting was over, and Remus felt drained, just like he always did after having to partake in the gatherings with so many older and better students. Remus was under no illusions that Professor McGonagall would have picked him for prefect had she literally been left with any other possibility, and as such he always felt utterly useless when he met with the other representatives for their houses. Lily was no exception, but at least she was a friend.

“I couldn’t help but overhear what you and Peter were discussing in Potions,” Lily began, and Remus raised an eyebrow at how easily she jumped straight to the point. 

“Then you’ll know that Peter knows a lot more about that subject than me,” Remus lied, interrupting Lily before she got to the heart of the matter. This was not a safe subject for him to discuss, let alone think about.

“Black’s not actually being sexually abused by our Defence Professor, is he?” Lily asked mercilessly. 

Remus shuddered at her choice of words, but as usually she was quite correct in her terminology. It still didn’t bear thinking about.

“I doubt it,” Remus said mildly, keeping everything in check. 

Lily gave him a piercing look, but Remus was quite sure she couldn’t read his mind. She would no doubt have looked at him with great pity if she could. 

“Good,” Lily said, now almost non-committal. Remus gave her a weak smile and stumbled a little over his own feet.

What had he been thinking? He’d already come to like the idea of Sirius’s mouth on him. It had made him feel things, much too many things. It wasn’t safe, wasn’t safe for Remus. Sirius was his friend, and Remus was supposed to be Sirius’s friend, not anything more. Not a toy. 

He’d let Sirius see him naked. Had let him do things to him, private things. Things he should never have been allowed to do. Things Remus shouldn’t have allowed himself, more like. He was a werewolf, for fuck’s sake. His condition meant he would remain single for the rest of his life, unless he inexplicably found someone who didn’t mind his monstrous alter ego. Or, worse, someone who actively got off on it, like a sick fetish. Presumably that was why Sirius had wanted to, in the first place. To be able to say that he had done it with a dark creature. Or maybe it was just the gender aspect, although surely Sirius would’ve been able to find some other boy if that had been the objective for him. He was the most attractive boy in school, there really wasn’t any reason he couldn’t have found a wizard who’d have him for a bit of experimentation. No, something as everyday as breaking gender norms would not have been enough to give Sirius the kicks he craved.

That wasn't completely fair, either. Peter was right, Remus had realized before now that Sirius had been abused at home and he had had an inkling that it might have been sexual in nature. It wasn’t normal to be as promiscuous as Sirius was, or at the very least it was at the extreme end of normal. It was one thing to be a horny teenager, and quite another to actually have a new partner every week, starting when you were thirteen. Remus had assumed he’d been taken advantage of by someone older, someone who had taught him rather a lot about sex. Sirius had always insisted that that was just Marlene, that they had simply explored their virginities away together. Remus had never quite believed him.

Fact remained it had left Sirius the way he was. Flighty. Not necessarily a bad lover, just one that wouldn’t stick around. Not boyfriend material. It also meant that the act of sex itself meant nothing to him, and the fact that it maybe, just maybe, had meant something to Remus now seemed ridiculous. Even if it had been the dalliance with Remus that Peter had nosed his way to, it would come to its end soon and it would be a clean cut for Sirius, but not for Remus. Sirius would go back to being his friend, and if Remus was lucky he would never tell anyone about what they had done together. That was the best-case scenario. Of course, it was possible that Sirius had already moved on to the next one, that whoever Peter had sniffed out was his newest conquest, that Remus had already been discarded. 

Remus felt rather sick.

“I need a shower,” he told Lily unhappily. She had appeared lost in her own thoughts and merely muttered a good night in his direction before she stalked off to the girls’ dormitories. 

Standing outside the bathroom, Remus was painfully reminded of showering together with Sirius in this very bathroom, and he hovered uncertainly outside the door. Remus decided he wasn’t up to that shower tonight; he could put it off till morning instead, when he’d hopefully be master of his feelings once more. It wasn’t as if he was that smelly anyway.

He entered the dormitory quietly, expecting everyone to be asleep. James was up, writing the Defence essay that was due in the morning (he didn’t even have any books with him on the bed, he seemed to be pulling everything from memory as usual, which would have been infuriating if Remus hadn’t been so impressed) and he barely looked up from his writing as Remus entered the dormitory, even though Remus could have sworn that James winked at him even as his quill scratched noisily over the parchment. 

Peter was fast asleep in the next bed, curtains not quite closed around him. He looked peaceful and much younger than he did when he was awake, all the worry and uncertainty was wiped clean off his face in his sleep. 

Sirius’s bed was empty.

Remus looked away quickly, worried that James would notice his look. Not that it was unusual for Remus to perfunctorily check if his dormmates and fellow Marauders were all present. He had every right to look, and normally he would have asked James where Sirius was, too. Tonight he didn’t. With a sinking feeling Remus realized that he couldn’t bring himself to ask simply because he was too afraid of what the answer would be. It seemed inevitable, really. Sirius was in a broom cupboard somewhere, maybe a classroom or out in the grounds if he was feeling particularly bold. With someone new.

Remus turned away from the empty bed to face his own, the scratching of James’s quill fading into white noise as he tried to stabilize his mind and that heavy throbbing within his ribcage. He had to grab hold of one of the four posters, hand snatching in the curtains as he tried to get a grip, and he stared blankly at the deep red curtain. He got it, finally, got himself back and began to change into his pyjamas. 

It had just been sex and now it was over. One more experience ticked off the list; all part of growing up. He’d do his best to be normal around Sirius, and he wouldn’t blame him for this. It wasn’t normal behaviour from other people, but Sirius wasn’t completely normal in this regard and he wouldn’t understand what he’d done wrong even if it was explained to him. 

Remus needed to repress and ignore. He was good at that, wasn’t he, had had some practice already. Just another part of growing up. 

He began pulling his drapes open, realizing as he did that it was odd that they were drawn shut in the first place. Then he realized there was already somebody in there.

Remus swallowed heavily, then climbed in through the little opening he had made, quickly and clumsily pulling the curtain shut behind him and in his haste forgetting to bid James goodnight.

Sirius’s mouth was on him immediately, hungry moans moving straight from Sirius’s mouth into Remus’s. Every thought but one evacuated Remus’s brain. Funny how young people were wired that way.

“We need to charm it quiet!” Remus hissed, trying to ply his face away from Sirius’s. 

Sirius grinned evilly, catching Remus’s eye and then suddenly opening his mouth and letting out the loudest, vilest, most pornographic near-climax moan possible. It echoed inside the small, lit-up space enclosed by Remus’s curtains.

Remus stared at him in shock, frozen in place for all of two seconds. Then whatever self-deprecating, depressed little beast inside he had been living with vanished like by a much more powerful ‘evanesco’ than he had ever managed on his own. Sirius was pure magic.

Remus grinned back, realizing that there must be soundproofing charms already in place. He also realized, to his chagrin, that the fake noise Sirius made, aided by the kissing and touching, had made him more than half-hard in the space of a few seconds. Finally, he realized that Sirius was completely naked, his excessively pale skin bathed in wand light, which meant Remus could see everything. Remus blushed and made to look away, but then he caught himself and turned back, turned back specifically to look. Sirius wanted him to look, didn’t he? Got off on it. And Remus liked looking at least as much as it embarrassed him to look. 

Sirius leaned back onto Remus’s pillows like he belonged there, legs parted to shamelessly show off what he had. He was small and chubby when flaccid and as yet possessed far from the good-sized thing Remus had seen his cock grow into when erect. It would have been a very cute penis if it hadn’t belonged to the most arrogant wizard Remus knew. Sirius was supporting himself on his elbows, which displayed a lot of hard muscle too, right there underneath that lovely creamy skin. Remus swallowed and forced himself to continue looking. Sirius looked decadent like this and the expression on his face told Remus that he was well aware of it, too. 

Sirius stroked his stomach and his slowly hardening pink little cock. Remus looked despite himself, watched it fatten up under the sure hand and Remus’s awkward but no doubt longing gaze. Sirius stopped abruptly and patted himself commandingly on the thigh. 

Arrogant wanker.

Remus crawled over his legs and sat down awkwardly almost on Sirius’s prick. He was wearing his pyjamas and Sirius toyed with the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, watching with obvious appreciation how tented they were. Remus was still so embarrassed he almost wanted to flee, he really couldn’t take this kind of scrutiny, he was much too self-conscious. 

Unless he wasn’t. It seemed his want and his need and the ridiculously profound attraction bubbling low, low in his belly might be winning over the shyness. Just.

“Get naked,” Sirius said, voice lower than usual and about as commanding as it normally was. 

Remus experienced a full-body shiver and simultaneously felt a large amount of precum escape and wet the front of his pyjamas. Sirius’s hand was there in a flash, thumbing unembarrassedly over the wet patch, catching the head of Remus’s cock between his fingers. 

Despite what his cock might think, Remus couldn’t understand what would be better if he lost his clothes. It was easy to see which one of them was the looker, and clearly Sirius got off on his own hot body anyway. Couldn’t that be enough for them both? Sirius had seen what he had to offer already, skinny chest and damaged skin and no grace. 

Sirius’s eyes were insistent, though. Remus cursed himself for not showering on top of it all; this would be horrible. He came to a decision and began to fumble with the buttons in front of his worn night shirt, one was missing and he almost pulled another straight off in his nervousness. Sirius continued touching and helping Remus make a further mess of his bottoms. Remus was probably seconds away from coming, how did Sirius do this to him? Remus had to close his eyes as he slid his shirt off his shoulders, whole body trembling with sickening nerves. He could smell his own sweat and he hated it all. Sirius’s hands stroked up his hips, right there on the stretch of skin Remus hated more than any other on his body. The hands continued, warm and certain, over and down the other side, sneaking underneath the fabric to grip Remus’s arse, to squeeze the swell of flesh and pull down his bottoms in the process, momentarily trapping the elastic around his thighs as he struggled before exposing the red-hot bits that until recently had been Remus’s and Remus’s alone. Remus whimpered, feeling scared and impossibly turned on behind his closed eyes. He was naked. There was a gust of hot air right on his lower stomach and Remus’s eyes shot open with fright; Sirius was laughing.

“Will you look at the size difference!”

Sirius was still laughing, and he still didn’t sound embarrassed. Remus looked down and admired their cocks, side by side lying flat against Sirius’s stomach, pointing the same way. His own was engorged and angry red and leaking furiously, the head by now discoloured from precum and doing its utmost to paint Sirius’s abs with sticky smears. Sirius’s was still more soft than hard, and as such left for an unfair comparison, although Remus could acknowledge that Sirius was exactly the sort of person who would find this funny. 

He put a shaking hand on Sirius’s prick, curling his fingers around the soft weight, and Sirius’s laughter died in his throat, his eyes widening as he watched Remus’s hand.

“Feels so good, Moony,” Sirius told him quietly, almost hoarsely, but unfortunately Remus’s nerves caught up with him in his moment of audacity and he stopped squeezing and put his hand on his own thigh instead. He was blushing so hard that he could actually see his own torso reddening. He could also see Sirius’s cock, however, and it was completely hard now, long and big and raised so that it touched Remus’s. It felt rather nice.

“Now you can make a fair comparison,” Remus told him quietly. 

“Yeah.” Sirius looked as if he wanted to say something else, maybe crack another joke, but whatever it was seemed to die in his throat as he scrutinized Remus’s face. Remus wasn’t able to meet his gaze, all effort going towards not running away. 

Sirius began touching him, but not his prick like Remus had expected him to. Instead he touched Remus’s arms, all the way down to his hands, which were close to cramping and had a fast grip on each of Remus’s thighs. Sirius took them, plied them off Remus’s thighs, and he twisted until his thumbs were in Remus’s palms, then he squeezed inwards. 

Remus inhaled sharply, surprised and relieved and with a flood of unexpected feeling assaulting him. Sirius massaged the same spot for a bit, then moved back up his wrists and arms, occasionally stopping to rub his thumbs into odd spots, some of which Remus realized were filled with tension as they were worked on. Remus wondered if Sirius could smell his unwashed pits, but if he could, he didn’t say. He moved his hands to Remus’s lower back and did the same there.

“You’re gorgeous,” Sirius whispered, which immediately made all the unease flood back into Remus. He laughed, low and bitter, and he could vaguely hear Sirius swear and feel him shuffle around underneath him. Before Remus was able to retreat, Sirius had managed to sit up, his mouth hot and wet on Remus’s face; temple, eyelid, cheekbone, side of the nose, middle of his mouth. Remus let him in after a heartbeat of hesitation, bitterness and derision dying a pain-free and quick death by Sirius’s tongue. At least temporarily. 

Sirius’s hands were on the back of his shoulders, first, kneading deep into tensions that hurt rather a lot but that slowly gave way. Sirius moved to his neck, then, with a lighter touch, then into his hair. They were so close like this, fat erections and flat chests pressed together, lips and tongues slickly caressing and Sirius’s unexpectedly skilful fingers digging into Remus’s scalp. Remus stroked his mate’s waist and back, all the smooth, unblemished skin anyone could hope for. 

He had to break the kiss, meaning to tell Sirius how nice his hands felt, how talented a kisser he was, how obviously he was the gorgeous one. What came out, however, was: “You’ve got good skin”, which, admittedly, deserved the laughter it got in reply. Compliments were hard, turns out.

Sirius laughed a proper deep belly laugh, which Remus could feel rather intimately as it all but made Sirius’s abs massage their eager pricks together, and the stunning crinkled eyes that bored into Remus’s looked genuinely happy with him. 

“You can spray your spunk all over my good skin in a sec if you behave yourself. Lie down for me, please.” 

“Sirius!” Remus choked on his own tongue, blinking hard and battling yet another angry flush that spread from his face to his neck and probably further down. “You mustn’t say things like that,” he continued, trying to make his voice mature rather than outraged. Sirius was laughing openly at him.

“Looks good in porn, doesn’t it?” Sirius said brightly, as if that was where he generally scoured for ideas to use in the bedroom with his conquests. Remus felt his heart sink a little.

“It’s not nice,” he began carefully, doing his best to explain. “It’s demeaning to –“

“Got much practical experience with coming on people, do you?” Sirius steamrolled over him. “Also, you need to stop using your prefect’s voice with me if you want me to get you off.”

Remus frowned and decided to ignore the slight on his attempt to sound mature.

“Of course I don’t have any experience with that sort of thing,” he said instead, then he hesitated, the obvious return question on the tip of his tongue. It felt heavy there, weighty.

Sirius watched him for all of two seconds (a long hesitation for him, Remus inwardly noted) and then he brought his arms tightly around Remus, lifting and twisting in what would have been a smooth move had Remus not struggled and flailed about in a mini-panic. Remus ended up on his back anyway, his head securely on a pillow and Sirius straddling him. 

“That’s better, gorgeous,” Sirius told him, quiet triumph in every word. Remus exhaled slowly, willing himself not to react. Sirius’s eyes were dark and almost solemn and they left his face to trail down his torso, as if taking it all in. Remus fought against the need to struggle, the need to cover up his inadequacies as much as he wanted to cover up how hard for Sirius he still was. 

Sirius took both their cocks in a loose grip, like it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world. His hand was unexpectedly elegant for something so large. Small joints and long bones. His eyes were still roaming over Remus’s heaving chest and fluttering stomach, he wasn’t even looking at what his hand was doing. Remus could feel it in vivid detail though; the way his thumb circled around first Remus’s wet dickhead, then Sirius’s, then back to Remus’s. He’d be ready to come any second now, he had no idea how Sirius could look so calm and contemplative. 

Sirius let go, freed erections flapping about together over Remus’s stomach, and brought his thumb to his mouth, eyes boring into Remus’s as he sucked on it. Remus moaned before he could stop himself, in great detail remembering Sirius drinking down his come like it was a delicacy. Sirius grinned, a little bit predatory and a little bit amused. Then he bent down, repositioning himself onto his knees and elbows to take his weight off Remus. Sirius’s hair tickled uncomfortably as he closed in, but then his mouth found Remus’s neck and Remus moaned again, suddenly almost past caring about embarrassing himself. It felt great having his neck kissed, which made sense considering how common a practice it seemed to be, at least amongst couples in Hogwarts. The hairs on Remus’s arms and neck stood up and he even tried to buck his hips to rub off on Sirius, everything felt that good all of a sudden. And all just from some moist lips that brushed and occasionally sucked a little. He didn’t even suck hard, although Remus did wonder if this would be enough to leave him with hickeys on his neck for everyone to see. Remus’s only follow-up thought was that this would definitely be worth getting caught with a marked-up neck over. He arched his spine again, trying to give Sirius even more of his neck and still seeking some bit of Sirius’s body to properly rut against, but to no avail. Sirius was a little stubbly, and the friction made it borderline too much, although who was he kidding here; that stubble, too, felt good. Sirius was moving down, mouth finding Remus’s collarbone. Sensitive but not quite as good, Remus concluded. His nipple was next, and that really was as good as his neck. Remus let another moan escape, savouring the feel of Sirius’s lips, the way he kissed it to absolute hardness and then suckled on it, mimicking something that probably should have made it shameful. Remus would have been astonished if Sirius even understood the concept of shame. He kept expecting teeth, however, or at least a proper hard suck, but there was nothing of the kind. Sirius was almost unreasonably gentle with him, and if it hadn’t already felt so good Remus might have asked for something a little harder… 

Sirius was planting kisses on his stomach now, shuffling back as he did. Remus got up on his elbows to watch, more than an inkling of where this was headed now. 

The bastard didn’t go there. Remus actually whined when Sirius licked lazily over the sensitive flesh around Remus’s groin, wet licks right in his pubic hair but none on his erection. Sirius was suddenly looking him straight in the eye again, moving even lower, winking… Then there was a questioning lick on one of Remus’s balls. 

“Yes…” Remus whispered, voice breaking, and Sirius grunted and licked some more, soon nuzzling his whole lower face in there to Remus’s continued encouraging noises. “So nice,” Remus hissed, hips moving of their own volition as he lost control, “I’m gonna…” 

Sirius exchanged mouth for the palm of his hand, then made a move for Remus’s cock, quick as a flash. Remus had just begun to come untouched when his cock was grabbed and licked on, he opened his eyes in time to see Sirius’s tongue lave from root to head as come spurted in every which direction. Sirius continued licking him, eyes closed and face relaxed, reminiscent of a dog cleaning his master’s hand, and Remus shuddered as his brain made that unbidden comparison. He couldn’t tear his eyes away though, just watched as Sirius kissed his softening dick, then licked into Remus’s pubes, his stomach, Sirius’s hand, Remus’s balls…

“I didn’t shower before!” Remus remembered, dread resurfacing as he watched Sirius lean his head on Remus’s hip, wavy black cum-stained hair draping his striking features dramatically. Sirius licked his lips in a would-be erotic display, which he spoiled by descending into laughter yet again. He pulled himself together quite quickly, maybe sensing real distress in Remus, whose post-orgasmic haze was by now quite ruined by his realization.

“I came in your sheets while sucking on your smelly balls, so I’d say we’re even,” Sirius told him somewhat seriously, voice cracking with mirth. “You’re welcome,” he continued and gestured to where the wet patch presumably was in the sheets, simultaneously getting up on his knees so that Remus could see the state of him. Remus’s breathing was going back to normal and he found himself smiling dopily, all limbs feeling like they were made of lead. Sirius smiled back and crawled up to Remus’s head, bending down to give him a kiss right on his nose tip. It was an odd place to choose, but Remus realized he only savoured it more for that reason. He met Sirius’s gaze more comfortably than he had this whole night, and oddly enough Sirius seemed almost timid to meet his eyes this time around. They smiled at each other, then Sirius mouthed the word “shower” before he exited through the curtains around the bed. Remus held his breath for a second, the sound of snoring suddenly penetrating where he laid. Sounded as if both Peter and James were asleep. Lucky. 

Remus extinguished the light Sirius had conjured and then he closed his eyes. He’d freak out good and proper in the morning, he knew, but right now he couldn’t remember what the problem was.


	38. We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "400 Lux" by Lorde.

The Marauder’s had different elective subjects, although Sirius shared all of his with James. He had pushed James into taking Muggle Studies (‘Evans’ was the only word he’d needed to utter to make James sign up) and James had forged Sirius’s signature onto the list of those taking Arithmancy. Sirius hadn’t minded, much, he was certainly clever enough to breeze through those lessons just like he did everything else. It just would’ve been nice to have more spare time. Care of Magical Creatures they’d both signed up for immediately; after all they had just begun working on their animagus transformations back then, and they also spent rather a lot of their nights exploring the Forbidden Forest. Some more information of what lurked in there wouldn’t go amiss. Peter took that class with them, and Ancient Runes with Remus. Remus also did Divination on his own, although he seemed to take that class mainly for a laugh. Remus was one of the most down-to-earth people Sirius knew, and there was no way he believed in any of the foretellings they came up with in class. Maybe he just needed a couple of hours away from the other Marauders every week.

Professot Kettleburn was a riot. The man walked on enchanted wooden legs of different material and width (the right one, of sturdy English Oak, was apparently useful on longer hikes and also for his crups to chew on when they were teething. The left one, of slender and ornamental birch, was for the delectation of the ladies, according to him). He had a metal arm, complete with a hook and a whittling knife, and of course his wand arm, which was fortunately still intact. Kettleburn spoke in a broad Irish accent and he used a lot of swearwords when he taught. He took a special interest in the mating rituals of magical creatures, which the students’ textbooks had somehow neglected to spend much time describing, and if you caught him in a particularly good mood, he might even invite you back to his for a drink.

The first time that had happened, when Sirius, James and Peter had been all of thirteen years old, Sirius had been certain that they were about to be taken advantage of in some horrid and creative way, possibly involving several of Kettleburn’s prosthetic limbs. James had thought that idea hilarious when Sirius shared his suspicions (he had grown up rather sheltered, Sirius supposed) and Peter had squealed with fright and refused to join them. Sirius had gone with James to Kettleburn’s little grotto, which was located on the path that led to the lake. It looked nothing like a grotto on the inside, all warm and comfortable with yellow rugs and tapestries and cushions everywhere. The shelves on the walls were covered in wooden sculptures the Professor had no doubt carved himself, and also held an ever-expanding collection of full and empty bottles of ale, both magical and muggle. 

Their Care for Magical Creatures Professor had not been interested in raping them, to Sirius’s relief, and he had instead proceeded to tell them fantastical stories about dragons and merpeople and unicorns, and Sirius and James had quickly learnt to drink ale without grimacing. Kettleburn had no interest in what either one of them had to say, not retellings of successful pranks or quidditch games, nor anything about themselves. He was, however, clearly in love with Professor Sprout, and he would enquire after her and about what they did in her lessons. All in all, it wasn’t a bad trade-off, especially as Kettleburn sometimes kept magical creatures with him in his grotto, and also as he sometimes let Sirius and James borrow an animal or two. He seemed strangely disinterested in what they wanted the creatures for, merely giving them detailed instruction on preferred diet and sleeping hours for his fosterlings. 

It was great fun being in charge of magical creatures, as the Marauders quickly learnt. Knarls, crups and kneazles all had good entertainment value and they had successfully been used as pranking aides. The flobberworms they had borrowed had not always made their way back to Kettleburn, however, as their rate of mortality seemed connected to the success rate of the pranks. 

The weather today was just as bad as you could expect from February in the Highlands. Mud everywhere and grey skies and the air so raw and moist that it might as well have been raining constantly. They were discussing thestrals today, although only Mary Macdonald seemed to be capable of seeing them. She was white in the face and refused to look anywhere but the muddy ground right in front of her feet.

Sirius and James took it upon themselves to run around inside the enclosure while Marlene was asking Kettleburn a question about same-sex relationships between thestrals. It was great fun until Sirius ran smack into what felt like the head of a primitive reptile with silky wet skin, and the force of it made him topple over, catching himself on his hands before he could get the whole of his school robes covered in mud. James laughed uproariously, and he wasn’t the only one. 

“You’re lying, Prongs, bet you can actually see them,” Sirius grumbled as he got up. At that moment, James yelped with terror and wet slick appeared on his side where his pocket was. It looked as if a snotty, gargantuan nose was trying to burrow its way into James’s pocket. 

“Ah, now then, are you carrying any meat on you at all?” Kettleburn asked loudly, seemingly unperturbed that two of his students had broken into the enclosure with magical creatures. 

“No, he’s skin and bones,” Sirius said, at the same time as James said:

“Yeah, Lambeth told me I need more protein in my diet. I’m bulking up for the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor game, the House Elves made me some porkpies, special.”

“Porkpies, you say?” Kettleburn mused, using his hook to absentmindedly scratch his nose. “They’ll have to do, lad.”

“Not likely,” Sirius muttered, referring to James’s slight build, and his mate promptly pushed him over (he was a lot stronger than he looked, in Sirius’s defence.)

James dug up a pie and boldly held it out in front of him. Sirius, who was lying right in the way of the invisible beast, it seemed, could feel hooves stepping over him and planting themselves in the wet earth right next to his torso. There was a gasp from the rest of the class and Sirius looked up in time to see the porkpie devoured in one, then a wet trail of saliva appearing on James’s palm as the thestral apparently licked the grease off it. Sirius felt around in thin air until he found an extremely bony leg, which he used for leverage as he got himself up off the ground. The thestral squawked in a distinctly un-horselike way.

“Tergeo,” Sirius muttered under his breath, watching regretfully how the wet filth left his robes. It was mostly successful, although his robes still felt a bit damp. He gave the thestral a sound clap on what he had expected to be its flank, but might very well have been the boniest rump Sirius had ever had the privilege to feel up. There was a slightly more demure squawk from the thestral. 

“Strapping thing, aren’t you?” he said politely, hoping thestrals weren’t as easily offended as hippogriffs. 

“Not so loud, Sirius, people will think we’re back together again,” James said with badly faked embarrassment. 

“What can I say, I like ‘em bony.” 

Sirius blew him a kiss and enjoyed the giggling coming from Dotty and Azalea. All Gryffindors (except for Remus) took Care for Magical Creatures, which they had together with the Slytherins. As fortune would have it, only one Slytherin student had signed up for the class, which coincidentally was the highest bearable number to have in your company at any given time, as far as Sirius was concerned. The lessons were therefore almost always enjoyable, if commonly a bit dangerous. 

“Professor Kettleburn, sir, what can you tell us about the giant squid?” James asked. He had fed the thestrals all the porkpies he’d had on his person (four, and Sirius had no idea how they’d all fit inside of James’s pockets) and was now climbing back over the fence. Sirius followed suit.

“His hobbies include water polo and seagrass knitting,” Kettleburn deadpanned, although to be fair that might have been the truth. It wasn’t always possible to tell with him.

“Has he ever been out of the Black Lake, d’you reckon?” Sirius asked.

“You assume cephalopods did grand tours of fecking Europe back when he was young?” Kettleburn replied immediately.

“About time, in that case,” Sirius whispered into James’s ear. 

“The Great Hall will have to do for our squid, I don’t think even you and I can make Europe happen,” James told him in an undertone. Kettleburn had gone back to talking about thestrals, and most of their fellow students were taking notes. 

“I can’t wait to see it!” Peter squeaked next to Sirius’s elbow. Sirius rolled his eyes and James gave Peter a fond smile. 

“It’ll be a good one, Wormy, and all thanks to your idea. Thanks for the porkpies too, they were useful.”

“My pleasure,” Peter said eagerly, “I heard you saying you needed to eat more, so I thought…”

“When’s the game again?” Sirius interrupted with a small yawn. James clapped Peter on the shoulder and turned to Sirius instead.

“Next Saturday. I expect you to don our colours then, show me some proper support.”

“I’ll finally get to wear that tight red dress your Mum bought me. It’s really supportive around the-”

“Red lipstick is a must, and gold eyeshadow.”

“If you’re quite ready, lads, I could use your help feeding the thestrals.”

Sirius turned, only to see the retreating backs of all their classmates. Professor Kettleburn was standing right beside them now, looking as if he’d had his worst suspicions confirmed vis-à-vis their topic of conversation. 

“Porkpies not enough for the little darlings?” James asked.

“They’re bonier than you, of course it’s not enough,” Sirius said. 

“I’m wiry!” James said with all the wounded pride he could muster.

“The porkpies were my idea,” Peter piped up. Kettleburn looked a little mystified but refrained from commenting. 

“I’ve got a wheelbarrow full of beef,” Kettleburn said, gesturing vaguely into the trees. “Told some fairies to look after it while I taught. You lot can go get it and feed it to the thestrals, then leave the gate to the enclosure open so that they can leave. Wheelbarrow goes back to the greenhouses, I borrowed it from my precious Pomona.”

“I’ve got quidditch practice,” James said hopefully. 

“Should’ve bloody thought of that before you began clowning about during lessons,” Kettleburn said menacingly, although his eyes twinkled. “There might be a couple of beers in the wheelbarrow, too.”

With that, their esteemed professor turned on his mismatched wooden heels and left them.

“I can’t drink,” James said annoyedly and Peter patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

“But you’re professional-level good at quidditch, that’s gotta be something,” he said soothingly, and Sirius snorted loudly. 

“More beer for us then, eh Peter?” 

The fairies scattered when Sirius approached the wheelbarrow behind the trees, and he carted it towards the enclosure. Peter and James grabbed the six-pack that had been left beside it. It looked muggle. The wheelbarrow was filled to the brim with wet slabs of red meat, all of unidentifiable cuts. Some of the bones sticking out looked distinctly like bits of wings, and Sirius privately doubted that it was beef they were dealing with. The thestrals didn’t seem to mind though; as soon as Sirius had re-entered their enclosure there were bony, warm bodies pushing up against him and the meat was torn away from the wheelbarrow. It took less than a minute, and then as a grand finale there was the lewd noise of a dozen, sandpapery tongues licking blood off the wheelbarrow. Sirius steered the wheelbarrow back, leaving the gate to the enclosure open and then chasing Peter with the wheelbarrow. It was too easy, Peter wheezed and stumbled, he was still carrying their beer, then he was knocked backwards as Sirius hit him in the back of the thighs and he fell in, yowling with terror and disgust. James, roaring with laughter, grabbed hold of one of the handles and helped Sirius push, the three of them crashing through the undergrowth at breakneck speed and making enough noise for a whole army. It was heavy work, but of course Sirius couldn’t let James think he was weak and so they powered through long after they were both exhausted. Having reached Hagrid’s cabin they finally slowed down, the excuse being to stop and greet him. The great man shouted something about a fresh batch of rock cakes, which saw them up their speed again. 

“Should we give Sprout a gift, too, and tell her it’s from Kettleburn?” James asked as they neared the greenhouses. 

“Beer and a love poem?” Sirius suggested, immediately looking around for inspiration. 

“Hang on, I’ve got a quill somewhere.”

James dug through his pockets and came up with a scruffy, deep red self-inking quill and a small, square thing with a pink heart on it that Sirius recognized as a muggle card.

“What the fuck, Prongs?”

James blushed, which could only mean one thing.

“I had really meant it for Evans, you know… But I decided to get her… Well, never mind.”

“It’s Valentine’s day on Saturday,” Peter supplied helpfully from the front. He had cracked open a beer and was looking rather content now that he was just being wheeled around at a speed that was unlikely to make him sick up. 

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius muttered irritably and grabbed the card and the quill from James’s hands. He’d let go of the wheelbarrow without warning, which made it tip back harshly and in turn made Peter spill some beer over himself. Sirius used James’s back for writing support and neatly printed ‘For My Precious Pomona’ at the top of the card. 

_Roses are red,_  
_Violets are blue._  
_Come to my grotto and share my bed,_  
_Make my fairy-tale come true._

Sirius read his effort aloud to much laughter from the others, then James helped Peter out of the wheelbarrow, and they left it by Greenhouse One, card with a can of muggle beer on top inside, keeping the card safe from the wind. 

“Wonder what Remus is up to?” Sirius mused as they walked up to dinner, and James sniggered a bit rudely while Peter tried to down his can before they got inside the castle.

“What are you doing for precious Remus on Valentine’s Day?” James asked him, luckily at the same time as Peter scrunched the empty can in his hand.

Sirius frowned and made no response to that.


	39. When we made love, you used to cry, you said 'I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits.

Remus and Lily were patrolling the corridors on a Friday night. It was getting late, but Friday and Saturday nights required the prefects on patrol to stay up until midnight at least, as this seemed to be the preferred times for mischief-making of both the pranking and the shagging variety. Remus should know, having partaken in more than his fair share of the former. Strictly speaking, the Marauders as a group generally saw themselves as being so prolific that two nights a week wasn’t anywhere near enough for them. 

This week, for instance, had seen a focus on Professor Sprout. She had received several suggestive and one inappropriate gift (alcohol, poems, chocolates shaped like birds and bees, a crup puppy with a bow around its neck and one of Madam Pomfrey’s uniforms Sirius had stolen and modified just a little), and last night they had set up a candlelit dinner for two (one bowl of spag bol the House Elves had prepared for them and two bottles of wine James had gotten from the Hog’s Head). They’d sent notes to both Sprout and Kettleburn, just the hour and the place signed with four kisses at the bottom, and then waited outside underneath the cloak of invisibility. Sprout had laughed herself silly when she arrived, and then promptly proceeded to eat the spaghetti. Kettleburn hadn’t shown, although Remus wouldn’t be surprised if he had come to check it out, but remained outside in the shadows once he realized it was a set-up. James and Sirius had been extremely disappointed and were now planning new ways of getting their two professors together. Remus had tentatively asked if they even had consulted Sprout when it came to her romantic interests and preferences, but his concerns had been waved away with a familiar brand of limitless arrogance. 

And as for the other type of mischief you could get up to in the night-time… Well. Remus had found himself alone not even once the previous week when the dormitory lights went out. Sirius waited until the other two were asleep, but then he crept over and got into bed with Remus.

They were still doing blowjobs, or Sirius was, anyway. Oddly enough he hadn’t asked, or rather demanded, reciprocation, which Remus had expected him to do. Remus had no idea what was going on, but every time he had prepared himself to tell Sirius that it was a bad idea, or that it was ‘over’ (how pompous and dramatic didn’t that sound?), the memory of how bloody good it felt resurfaced, making Remus’s prick hard and his head empty. The butterflies in his stomach were still there, too, although he was resolutely ignoring them. Especially since he got them not just when Sirius sucked on his penis, but also when he passed the butter at breakfast, or when he shot tooth-decaying hexes after Mulciber in the Charms corridor, or when he leaned over Remus to lay down a card when they played exploding snap, or when he shouted obscenities when James tackled him to the ground, or when he stood next to Remus to brush his teeth.

Remus did not think about it. 

“I was expecting to find Black in one of these cupboards,” Lily said regretfully as they threw open the doors to the last of the (illogically many) broom cupboards located in the corridor behind the Grand Staircase. The broom cupboard they were currently by actually contained the entrance to the Marauders’ favourite secret passageway, and Remus was relieved they had not found Sirius in there. And not just because that would have given away a highly treasured secret. No, if Remus had found Sirius inside, snogging another student (or member of staff, unlikely as that was, thank you Peter), Remus might have felt the butterflies that lived and thrived in his stomach tie little nooses from his stomach lining to hang themselves with, one by one, and Remus did not trust himself to keep going after such a bloodbath. 

He did not think about it, however.

“He might be busy writing another romantic poem for Professor Sprout,” Remus said instead. It perhaps wasn’t the most prudent thing he could’ve said, but fortunately Lily looked highly entertained with the image Remus had painted for her.

“Really?”

“James helped with the previous one, I believe. They aren’t literary geniuses, exactly, but they can muddle through your standard Valentine’s Day witticism.”

“Potter’s serving himself up as jailbait, too?” Lily asked darkly.

“No, never that. His heart was caught and caged a long long time ago.”

Remus stared straight ahead as they walked towards the Entrance Hall. Lily huffed, but she didn’t sound overly annoyed. 

“Right, I won’t ask for more details. How do you think the game will go next week?”

“You’re asking the wrong one,” Remus said apologetically. “I take as little interest in quidditch as I’m allowed to. James is convinced they’ll win, though, and he’s usually good at getting what he wants. Skill and perseverance and all that.”

“Almost enough to make me root for Ravenclaw,” Lily said under her breath. 

“Blasphemy!”

“Says the one who cares fuck-all about quidditch,” Lily countered immediately. 

“There’s too many balls,” Remus tried, half-heartedly, to explain. He’d been here before, and it was usually no use to try to defend yourself. “I suppose any balls are a bit of a problem if I’m honest. I don’t follow football, either,” he said, realizing that Lily was someone who could appreciate the analogy. Lily stared at him in continued shock, and Remus decided it was a lost cause. 

“What’s that?” Lily said, now staring past Remus at the little chamber that was opposite the Great Hall. It was usually closed, in fact Remus had only visited that chamber when underneath the Invisibility Cloak. It contained an old grand piano and had a very high ceiling, but other than that it wasn’t supposed to house anything of interest. Tonight, though, it appeared to be filled with…

“Teddy bears?” Lily scoffed, striding purposefully into the room. It lit up for her, revealing at least a hundred teddy bears of different sizes, all holding a plush heart bearing different slogans, like “I Heart You” and “You’re Special” and “Lily will you give me a chance?”

Remus succumbed to laughter just as James Potter’s unruly quiff came into view. He had to shield his disastrous head of hair as Lily immediately snatched the first teddy she could reach and began pelting him over the head with it. 

Suddenly, a warm hand appeared over Remus’s mouth, while an arm wound itself around his waist and pulled him backwards before he could do more than gasp with fright.

“Shh, just me,” Sirius’s voice whispered in his ear, and Remus mostly stopped struggling. He was dragged backwards into the Great Hall, the double doors closing and leaving them in almost complete darkness. Stars sparkled diamondlike from the enchanted ceiling, and Sirius’s hands were right on his body…

Remus was almost hyperventilating, but more from arousal than from panic. Or at least fifty-fifty. Sirius took away his hand from his mouth and wound that arm around Remus’s shoulders instead. It felt like the best type of straitjacket. Remus was growing obscenely hard, and not even the heavy cloth of his robes were enough to keep him decent. Sirius continued backwards until they were at the Gryffindor table, and by then they were both breathing as if they’d run a marathon. Sirius pulled Remus with him onto the table, Remus sitting within the v of Sirius’s legs, right up against him… 

Remus shivered and leant backwards, back pressing against his friend. Sirius’s chin rested on his shoulder, and his arms were relaxing around Remus. One was drawing lazy circles on his chest, setting the nerve-endings there alight and causing the hairs on the nape of Remus’s neck to stand up. The other arm was no longer tight around his waist, either, it was dropping down in a would-be innocent gesture.

“Mhmm,” Sirius said in his ear as his palm stroked over the bulge between Remus’s legs. Remus had a feeling he himself was even less coherent. 

He tried to focus on something, anything, that wouldn’t push him over the edge immediately. His stamina was not something he had ever expected to be an issue, but then again, none of this was expected. His eyes had become accustomed to the near complete darkness, and he could discern the empty tables and benches in front. 

“Lily and James,” he said suddenly, remembering that those two were right outside and might come barging in at any moment to find Remus in the middle of being groped.

“They’ll be halfway to McGonagall by now, dunno what Prongs was thinking.”

“It’s not even Valentine’s Day yet,” Remus mumbled, brain barely capable of stringing a sentence together for him.

“It’s past midnight,” Sirius explained carefully. He didn’t let Remus consider this bit of information, instead he breathed in deep, nose in Remus’s hair. Remus swallowed.

Sirius’s moist lips began exploring Remus’s ear, the sensitive skin just behind and the rounded shell and the earlobe. Careful licks and pecks and puffs of hot air. Remus realized at some point that he was holding his breath, and he released it in a shuddering exhale. Sirius’s hand fisted the fabric over Remus’s heart, bunching it up, and his other hand pressed in more insistently over Remus’s prick. His lips slipped down over Remus’s neck, and Remus bowed his whole head, letting Sirius mouth travel over the thin skin, soothing tongue over the goose bumps. He kissed and sucked, never long enough in one place, and Remus couldn’t help the whiny, desperate panting noises that escaped from between his lips. 

He was seconds away from coming in his pants when Sirius suddenly stopped. Remus didn’t have time to do more than make a tiny, affronted little noise in his throat before he was being pulled up properly onto the table, laid out on the wooden surface and his robes were pushed over his legs, all the way up to his waist. 

Remus squirmed, uncomfortably hard and uncomfortable on the hard table. The table. He was lying on the Gryffindor table and Sirius was pulling his cock out into the open.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word ‘stop’ right on the tip of his tongue, and then he felt those devilishly talented lips form an ‘o’ around the tip of his dick. Sirius made a filthy, happy noise, bringing hot wetness all around Remus’s vulnerable, tender bits, Sirius’s saliva mingling freely with eager bursts of pre-ejaculate, and Remus’s whole length twitched greedily as Sirius’s warm, large hand caressed and squeezed ever so gently around it. 

Remus was going to get off on the table he ate breakfast at every day, in the room hundreds and hundreds of students would be seated in in just a few short hours, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He stared into space in guilt and bliss and desperation, literal space as he was lying with the enchanted ceiling right above him. No moon tonight, but millions of beautiful stars shone upon him and Sirius, such incredible, frightening, lonesome beauty. Sirius was right there with him though, he wasn’t alone underneath the Milky Way, he had someone real touching him, bringing him a different kind of beauty, the kind that wasn’t fit for spectators, but a beauty nonetheless. 

Remus moaned, arching his neck and pushing his hips up, up. Needing more, always more, so much more. Sirius was taking just about all of him, profane wet noises that could only mean one thing, and Remus knew that if anyone were to open the door to the Great Hall and hear this they would know immediately what was happening.

Spit dribbled down his length, Sirius’s mouth further open than it needed to be, but oh what an image that was for Remus’s imagination. Sirius’s fist had the root of his cock, and it massaged the thick spittle into Remus’s throbbing flesh, into the delicate layers of bunched up foreskin, and his mouth was closing over the top half, shaft resting on tongue, tip teasing against the soft, hot wetness at the back of Sirius’s throat while he sucked and sucked. 

Remus thrust out, and there was gagging and convulsing and swallowing. Remus felt as if he came for minutes, his mouth open in a silent shout and his eyes momentarily one with the stars above. Unseeing, blinking pinpoints of white light. 

The explosive, angry, stunning, majestic, graceful things. So far out of his reach. There to admire, to gaze at with wonder, but lightyears ahead of him. Stars he couldn’t have. Sirius, his beautiful Sirius, who wasn’t his at all. 

His stomach was full of fluttering things that would eventually fly too close to the brightest star of them all. They were doomed. That unholy, sexy mouth still had him captured, his soft, shrunken length was being suckled on, as if the owner of the mouth was lost in thought too. He’d get hard again if it continued, but his head was a mess now. He should put a stop to this, save himself while he still could. 

Who was he kidding.

Remus was beginning to get a headache. The back of his head and his back hurt from the prolonged contact with the table. He finally had to blink and with it he felt a tear burn down his cheek. 

Remus was not thinking about it.


	40. Just might have tapped into your mind and soul, you can't be sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Arabella" by the Arctic Monkeys.

“Potter, what the fuck!?” 

Lily’s stunning green eyes were two parts angry, one part amused, and seven parts exasperated, James saw after a quick calculation. He was to be congratulated on being able to see at all, actually, as Lily had broken his glasses while she hit him over the head with one of the teddy bears. Good Godric, she had some good arms on her. 

“You’re very strong,” he told her, trying not to sound either ingratiating or scared. Neither would do. There was no way of hiding how thoroughly she had taken his breath away, however. Her long hair was loose tonight and what wouldn’t James give to be allowed to brush it for her, run his fingers through it…

“The plush animals, Potter,” she said, enunciating clearly.

“Reparo,” James muttered under his breath, repairing his glasses and buying himself time. Was he supposed to tell her that they were all for her, or should he try to play it cool?

“I – It’s Valentine’s Day. Tomorrow, you know.”

“Today, you mean, it’s half twelve already,” Lily said icily. 

James nodded unhappily. Yes, that was the point, of course. He had thought that if he could be the first of Lily’s Valentine’s Day suitors, then, maybe… 

“It’s past midnight, and curfew was two hours ago,” Lily continued pointedly.

“Yeah,” James agreed.

“And you’re out, roaming the corridors like a hyperactive ghoul.”

James frowned, trying to twist her words into a compliment. It wasn’t easy, but at least it wasn’t ‘malnourished colt with the grooming habits of a demented ostrich’. He had absolutely heard worse from her. 

“Gryffindor’s house points, Potter,” Lily said impatiently when he didn’t immediately come up with anything to say. “I’d rather not take another ten for your miserable sake, but unless you have a passable excuse for filling a room that’s off limits to all students with childish cuddly toys, then I’ll have to do it anyway. From my own bloody house,” she continued viciously. 

“Umm,” James said, trying to find his footing, “I just thought that you...” His voice died in his throat as Lily’s emerald eyes flashed with annoyance. “I mean, no. I reckon, there’s so many girls who don’t get anything on Valentine’s. Boys, too, of course. Equal opportunity and all that. I thought I’d just leave these here, as a collective gift to the school, you know, anonymous, like. And anyone who felt let down or who just wanted one anyway could grab one, tomorrow.”

Lily stared at him for several seconds, and James held his breath. It felt like a lot was hanging on this. 

“Is Potter bothering you, Lily?”

James’s hand immediately went for his wand. The voice who had spoken was low and unctuous and belonged to the person James despised most in the whole school.

“Evening, Snivellus,” he began, but he was cut off by Lily.

“He’s not. Why are you out of bed at this hour, Severus? You know I’m supposed to report anyone I see out of bed without permission.”

James and Snivellus glared at one another, both of them had their wand in hand. Lily appeared to be resolutely ignoring this. 

“I thought you might need help,” Snivellus said, and James felt fury build inside of him. The only reason Lily might ever need help within the castle was because of the nasty little blood supremacists in Slytherin, the ones Snivellus was all friendly with. 

“How did you know where I…” Lily stopped herself from finishing the sentence, and James only just about refrained from asking if she wasn’t aware of how much time he spent stalking her in the castle. Remus had pointed out that James sometimes did the same, and he had a bad feeling Snivellus would throw it back in his face if he opened his mouth now.

“I’m quite capable, you know,” she said instead, now sounding lofty. “Did Rosier and Montgomery tell the other Slytherins how I stunned both of them when they attacked Remus and me a week ago?”

There was a silence after that, and James couldn’t help but beam at Lily. He was so proud of her. He was also furious and self-righteous, but mostly proud. Lily gave him a quick look, expressive eyes all but asking what he thought he had to be proud about right now. Snivellus’s face was inscrutable. 

“Where did Remus go?” Lily mused, suddenly looking around in some confusion. 

“Took Sirius back to the dorm to discipline him,” James said promptly. “He’s become all prefecty, recently,” he added. His eyes glanced over Sivellus again. A vague tension spread through him, there was something there, something he disliked seeing even more greatly than Snivellus’s normal facial expressions. He looked as if something had just dawned on him, as if he’d just discovered someone else’s greatest secret. James stared coldly at him.

“In that case, I’m calling it a night, too.” Lily crossed her arms over her chest and looked expectantly at James. James stared back lovingly, then caught himself. 

“Right, yeah. G’night, Evans.” James turned to leave, seeing as Lily apparently had things to discuss with the greasy git. From the corner of his eyes he caught Lily grabbing hold of one of the smallest teddies from the room, the one that bore the slogan “Lily is the Best”, if James wasn’t mistaken. She put it in her pocket, and James skipped a step or two on his way to the Grand Staircase.


	41. Getting away with it all messed up; that's the living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Getting Away With It" by James.

There was general confusion and some excited shouts as the giant squid was spotted. Soon, every single head had turned towards the ceiling and many mouths were gaping and fingers pointing. Peter noted proudly that even the Professors at the staff table looked momentarily stunned. 

The squid was floating inside of its very own water bubble, a bubble the size of Hagrid’s hut. It was floating rather high up, too, at least to begin with. 

The bubble floated very low over the Slytherin table, some of the water even made as if to drip out of the bubble. One tentacle was pushing insistently against the membrane of the bubble, exquisite pale pink suction cups expanding and retracting hypnotically. Each cup was easily the size of a student’s head, and of course the quality of the bubble meant it all got occasionally magnified or vaguely distorted whenever the bubble shifted. There were shouts and worried murmurs and plenty of Slytherins got up from the table with their hands covering their heads. It would have been a disaster if Sirius had lost control of the squid and its safe pouch of Black Lake water, indeed it seemed he was rather tempted to do just that.

Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were suddenly there and just like that they were in charge of James’s and Sirius’s creation. The bubble moulded into a solid-looking tank and with some very precise wand-movements of Flitwick’s the tank disappeared with a little ‘poff’. Peter gave Remus a nervous look. There was sporadic laughter and loud talking on all sides, the Slytherins were getting back into their seats as well. James appeared at the entrance to the great hall and Sirius was suddenly lounging luxuriously next to Remus as if he had been there all along. James sat down next to Peter just before McGonagall appeared at their end of the table. She did not look happy.

“Potter, Black. Whose idea was this?”

“Peter’s our go-to lad for ideas, aren’t you Peter?” Sirius said nonchalantly. Peter’s jaw hit the floor and he stared worriedly at their head of house.

“Yeah, my new porkpie-diet has been a great success. Just you wait until the game on Saturday; I won’t let you down, Professor.”

“I want to see all four of you in my office in half an hour.” McGonagall turned and walked back to the staff table. Little Professor Flitwick had left the Great Hall completely, and Peter did not envy his task which would presumably entail reintroducing the Giant Squid to the Black Lake. Who knew what kind of mood it would be in now?

Dinner had disappeared from the tables and was replaced by pudding, which was a delicious carrot cake for most of them. There were titters coming from the very centre of the Gryffindor table, though, where Lily Evans was sitting, and as Peter craned his neck he saw that the cake closest to her was in the shape of a purple blob with seven arms and wonky eyes, and he concluded that James must have been working some of his charms with the house-elves again. 

Lily was staring daggers at them and James giggled happily into Peter’s shoulder. To him this was still good fun, it would seem, and Peter took that to mean that they were unlikely to be expelled because of this. He grinned back at James and dared a look at Lily as well. She was still scowling, but she had cut a slice from the purple squid cake. It looked like an ordinary Victoria sponge on the inside.

Peter’s eyes meandered over to the very end of the table. He could just about make out a beautiful, delicate little head with dark hair shaped outwards like sheer angel wings. Peter had turned rat, before dawn yesterday, for Valentine’s, and dragged a whole box of chocolates up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. It had taken him almost half an hour, the box had been much too large and heavy for the rat, but he had persevered like a true Gryffindor. He’d had to do it himself, it wouldn’t do to let any of the other Marauders know. Especially not Sirius, although Padfoot would’ve been able to do the job in less than a minute.

Pippa slept in a bed just like his, the same large fourposter. Peter had been so tempted to turn human and just stand there and look, but he had realized that it might come off as creepy had she or any of the other girls in the dormitory awoken. He had dutifully left the chocolates on the floor by her slippers, fluffy scarlet things that Peter was certain would look stunning on her pale, delicate feet. 

“Half an hour’s up,” Remus said, and Peter was pulled out of his daydreams. He hadn’t even finished his carrot cake, which was certainly a first for him. 

Peter had no choice but to follow the other three to McGonagall’s office. Remus looked equally annoyed, he was even blushing as Sirius hung off him and laughed into his neck. James watched them with a pleased smile on his face and then he threw an arm around Peter. It meant Peter had to almost run to keep up with James’s longer legs, but it felt good to be included, to have James’s attention like that. 

“Which one of you did the spellwork today?” McGonagall looked furious and she stared pointedly between Sirius and James.

“Do you mean the teddy bears? I’ve never seen so many happy witches as I did yesterday, there was one for everyone, wasn’t there,” Sirius said. “I didn’t even have to offer up my services, Professor. As you know I sometimes serve as a cuddly toy for the more mature witches of this school…” Peter swallowed worriedly and watched the nostrils on their Transfiguration Professor flare. 

“That will be detention tonight, Mr Black. I do need someone to clean up the confetti and the candy wrappers and the left-over bears from the first floor that litter the floor from Valentine’s Day. It was good of you to remind me of it.”

There was a dense silence after that which even Sirius didn’t dare break. McGonagall probably didn’t have any way of proving the four of them (or rather, two of them), were responsible for the squid’s tour of the Great Hall, but it would be foolish to say anything at all in case she decided to punish them for it anyway.

“The Giant Squid is a proud magical creature and it does not deserve to be ridiculed in the way we have seen tonight,” McGonagall said finally, and this time she looked at Remus as well as at James and Sirius, as if hoping his shame might help talk sense into the others. She didn’t look at Peter at all, but he was rather used to being noticed the least out of the Marauders. Remus inclined his head, and James made a slightly out-of-place muggle military salute. 

“The three of you may leave. Black, come with me.” Professor McGonagall shooed all four of them out and then she walked briskly off towards the stairs. Sirius sauntered along behind her, but he walked backwards for a few steps and gave James a two-fingered salute and a noble bow before he was out of sight.

“That was wicked!” James exclaimed unnecessarily loudly.

“Do you want detention too?” hissed Remus as they followed a beaming James.

“You should’ve seen us floating the squid up through the grounds! We very nearly dropped it around Greenhouse two, can you imagine the ensuing rampage with the squid meeting the mandrakes? They’re feisty things, and so are the squid’s tentacles. Sirius wanted to feel up the suction cups, but I didn’t let him. Getting it through the front doors without bursting the bubble was a bloody nightmare, too, it looked like we wouldn’t manage it for quite some time. But when we got into the Great Hall I was able to leave it for Sirius to levitate as I got down to the kitchens. Took longer than expected to sort Lily’s cake out, but I think she looked pleased about it, at least on the inside, you know. Birds like it when you make an effort.”

“This, to you, was a romantic gesture?” asked Remus incredulously and Peter, who sort of agreed, tried to not let it show too much. James needed him on his side in times like these. “Getting a marine creature into a barely functional water bubble that could have drowned most of Slytherin house had it burst, and giving Lily a special cake that was purple and had an uneven number of tentacles?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” James told him earnestly, and as usual when Lily was involved his self-esteem seemed to deflate just a little. 

“You have to become a better thinker, then,” Remus stated and exchanged a furtive grin with Peter. "Or learn how to count."

“Can’t believe we didn’t get detention for it,” Peter commented. “Sirius’s wasn’t even strictly because of the squid, was it?”

“I think McGonagall was secretly impressed,” James said, cock-sure once more. “Merlin knows we performed some impressive magic!”

“Was Sirius under the table the whole time when we were eating?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, I was feeding him cod and mushy peas under the table,” Remus said and got flustered again. 

“How romantic,” James cooed, and Peter snickered. 

“I’m glad we didn’t all get detention as I actually need to finish that essay on Screechsnaps tonight.”

“Swot,” James said fondly and threw his arms around both Remus and Peter. “You’ll play exploding snap with me, Wormtail, won’t you? And do you want anything from the kitchens? I’ll talk to Sirius in the mirror and ask him to bring something tasty back when he gets off detention, seeing as I missed most of dinner I’m practically starving.”

“Just no squid cake,” Remus said firmly, and James pouted.

“I thought it was a fun idea,” he muttered.

“I think she looked like she liked it,” Peter said dutifully. 

As they reached Gryffindor Tower, they were heartily congratulated by most of their fellow house mates. James beamed and took a bow, but he did not explicitly confirm that they were behind it. Peter, who really should have joined Remus to write the essay for Herbology, ended up playing game after game with James instead. James was a good friend that way, always up for a bit of fun, and who was Peter to say no? 

When Sirius arrived back some hours later and laden with egg and mayo sandwiches, treacle tart and pumpkin juice, Peter eyed Remus’s finished essay enviously and wondered if he could ask to borrow it to help him along with his as yet unwritten one. Instead he ended up eating several more sandwiches than he should’ve, seeing as he had had dinner, and he ended up going to bed without having as much as started on the essay. It would have to be tomorrow’s problem.


	42. Left me cravin' for more summer wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Summer Wine" by Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood.

“We need to be quiet,” Remus whispered. Sometimes he thought Sirius and James wanted to get caught as they set up a clever prank just to be able to take full credit for it. As fifth years their collective effort at entertaining the school and annoying the Slytherins was widely known and whenever the pumpkin juice got spiked with appearance-altering potions or the steps of the grand staircase was turned into inflated rubber and acted like a muggle bouncy castle students and professors alike knew who was responsible. Thus, there was no need to get caught in the act anymore.

“You worry too much, Remus.” Sirius was right behind him, whispering into his neck, puffs of hot air making the hairs on Remus’s back stand to attention. He shivered but didn’t flinch, and Sirius walked around him to get to the fireplace James was standing by.

They had broken into the Slytherin common room, which wasn’t anything new, but it was one of the more high-risk endeavours as far as marauding went. Remus had never liked to let his mind dwell on what the Slytherins would do to the four of them if they were caught behind enemy lines. 

“I’m with you, we need to get out,” Peter said quietly. He was giving the sofa in the foreign common room a wide berth, as it had snapped viciously at him when he had tried to sit on it, probably a direct result of their last visit. Back then Sirius and James had performed a very complex gravitational spell which had successfully turned the gravitational pull upside down in the Slytherin common room as well as in some of the dormitories. 

“The Slytherin girls are going to thank us for this, more like,” James giggled into Sirius’s shoulder. He was shaking too much from laughter to be able to point and aim his wand anymore, but Sirius was still at it. The vast number of snake statues in the Slytherin common room had been turned into phalluses. They weren’t rock or metal anymore, either, but made from some plush, elastic pink material. They had come a long way from dignified, Remus thought, but James and Sirius and Peter all seemed to be of the opinion that the Slytherins collectively deserved to be made fun of, never mind if a few individuals of the house were decent people. 

“I still think this might be a bit much, we should think of the younger students,” Remus whispered in the general direction of James and Sirius. Sirius, who had been adding larger-than-life veins to the dildos, halted for a second to look at Remus with some curiosity behind the malice that the desecration of school property always brought out in him. Then he winked and flourished his wand arm. There was a collective sigh from the pink rubbery things, indecent and more than a little disturbing noises. James actually collapsed onto the floor; he was laughing that hard. 

“Every time they’re touched, they’ll make that noise,” Sirius whispered over James’s giggles, and he demonstrated by giving the nearest one, jutting out from the side of the fireplace, a firm tug.

“Ohhhh…” 

Peter was giggling furiously now, too, and Remus could feel the pull at the corner of his own mouth. There was another all-encompassing wave from Sirius and a more high-pitched sound, like a parody of someone on the brink of orgasm, was emitted around the room. Remus frowned to prevent his façade from crumbling.

“If they try to restore or alter them with magic they’ll make that noise,” Sirius explained quietly and gave Remus another wink. Remus shook his head and took hold of Peter’s quivering shoulders, walking them both towards the wall with the exit. The fleshy, angry-coloured almost lifelike penises were staring at him from every nook and cranny; small ones on bookshelves and big ones standing proud at the sides of doorways and a frightening collection of tiny ones dangling from the chandelier. Despite his efforts not to stare he noticed that they began to move as well, Sirius working a final bit of magic by the looks of things. The rubber dildos were still until they suddenly writhed or flopped or convulsed. 

The four of them got out safely, although James and Peter were still laughing much too loudly. Remus sneaked a look at Sirius even though he already felt too hot for it to be a good idea to let his eyes wander. His mate’s eyes shone like mad stars and he looked as if he might be a bit hot and bothered himself. Remus swallowed down some nerves and tried to act naturally and as such barely noticed when Peter suddenly stopped in his tracks. They were quite close to the Entrance Hall, which was a very open part of the castle and one that they had gotten caught walking through before during the night. 

There was a squeal and suddenly a rat ran past their legs.

“Bugger,” James whispered and threw the invisibility cloak straight at Remus. Then he took off at the speed of light the same way Peter had gone. Remus fumbled nervously with the cloak and almost dropped it as Sirius hauled him to the side with an arm around his middle. Remus was pulled into what he thought might be a broom cupboard and the bouquet of Sirius’s sweat and expensive French cologne invaded his sense of smell. He could see nothing, but his sense of touch was very occupied with the realization that his back was pressed into Sirius’s front. 

“Why didn’t you run?” he breathed into what he thought was Sirius’s ear. Sirius was almost as fast as James and the two of them were perfectly capable of outrunning Filch. Remus would have been safe with the cloak and he could have made it to Gryffindor Tower underneath it at his own pace. 

“And missed the opportunity to defile you in a broom cupboard? Who do you take me for?” Sirius’s warm mouth and stubbly chin was right in his neck and his hand was sneaking its way to Remus’s front, thumb drawing lazy circles on his hip and then on his stomach. 

They could hear Filch’s uneven footsteps and angry mutters as he passed. Sirius’s other hand went up to Remus’s mouth, and although Remus didn’t need to be told to be quiet he found that he didn’t mind so much. Sirius’s middle finger slid between his lips and his other hand was slowly rubbing over the now very prominent bulge at the front of Remus’s robes.

Sirius continued massaging his erection and placing languid kisses on the back of his neck while his middle finger played with Remus’s tongue; apparently multi-tasking was something he could do at times like these. Remus thought his own brain was melting or maybe evaporating completely, he found he could think of nothing to say or to do. Even his breathing was laboured enough he might have been in pain.

“Ever used a dildo on yourself?” Sirius asked him casually, something akin to laughter in his voice. “You seemed proper offended by the ones I’ve gifted to the Slytherins.”

“Of course I haven’t,” Remus whispered back, feeling annoyed despite the fantastic sensations coursing through various parts of his body. Sirius laughed provocatively in his ear. “Merlin’s beard. I’m not offended by them though, why would they offend me? I remember reading that prehistoric humans invented dildos before they invented the wheel, for instance, so clearly lots of people find them necessary…” Remus felt his voice die in his throat as he became aware of the erection Sirius was rubbing unerringly between his arse cheeks. It should not have felt as intriguing as it did. 

“I would never have guessed that our Moony reads smutty magazines,” Sirius whispered in his ear and Remus’s protests about it being a science magazine died when Sirius squeezed his prick. He did it just once, the great tease, before going back to a light petting. His lips trailed continuously over Remus’s neck, not quite dry but not too wet either. His other hand had left Remus’s mouth and was carding through his sweaty hair, nails grazing his scalp. It tingled almost as much as the skin underneath Sirius’s lips did, but all of Remus’s concentration was going to not reacting too loudly. They did not want to be found like this.

“Have you ever done this in a broom cupboard?” Sirius asked just before he began sucking on Remus’s earlobe. The moan Remus let out made him blush, but thankfully Sirius couldn’t see that in the dark. 

“Done what?” Remus whispered as he felt a simple ‘no’ would’ve been anticlimactic. 

“Felt someone up,” Sirius mumbled in his ear. “Let someone feel you up.” Sirius pressed the heel of his hand into Remus’s erection and rubbed hard and it made Remus see stars. Sirius’s prick was a solid length on the other side of him, lazy thrusts a constant reminder of how penetrative sex between blokes was supposed to work. 

“Mhhh…” Remus turned his face towards Sirius’s and felt the other boy’s hot breath fan over him. 

“Let someone plunder your mouth in the dark,” Sirius continued quietly, and Remus’s mouth fell open in anticipation. The kiss he got was much sweeter than the words had suggested, with Sirius’s tongue soft and wet and filling his mouth only gradually and his hand supporting the back of Remus’s head as though he was something very young and fragile. Remus didn’t mind, though, in fact it triggered all sorts of feelings...

“What about rubbing these until they’re hard and tight?” Both of Sirius’s hands migrated to his nipples and Remus made another undignified little noise in his throat. Sirius’s thumb and index held them unerringly, and Remus felt them stiffen from the touch as he expected Sirius to squeeze or pull. “Tease them until they’re like rosebuds on the brink of blossoming,” Sirius continued as he rolled them carefully in his fingers. Remus would absolutely have laughed at that comment if he hadn’t been so tightly wound. He wondered vaguely if Sirius had forgotten that he was in the broom cupboard with another boy and not a girl, but then Sirius turned him and pushed him up against the wall, own hands there to catch him before Remus’s back could hit the wall, and then he was grinding their hips together, hard cocks rubbing almost painfully against each other and against the fabric of their robes. 

Remus kissed him clumsily as he pushed back and chased his release, a release that hit him embarrassingly fast. Sirius wasn’t far behind, though, and they panted happily into each other’s mouths as they rode it out and recovered. Remus could feel the wet stuff between them threatening to seep through the front of his robes and some running down his hip. It was unpleasant as it started to cool, but he tried to focus on Sirius’s mouth instead. He hadn’t kissed many girls, but they all paled in comparison. Sirius was bad at shaving and his jaw was scratchy and harsh on Remus’s skin. His lips felt great, though, and now that he was calming down and focusing, he was taking the lead again, showing Remus how to kiss until the recipient’s toes curled. It was still very sweet, however, and Remus did wonder why that was. He had seen Sirius snog plenty of girls, and none of it had looked as soft as this felt.

“Now would be a good time to show me the Prefect’s Bathroom,” Sirius suggested when they took a break. 

Remus nodded. The stickiness around his groin and his renewed arousal from kissing both suggested that water and soap and letting Sirius get at him naked was the best course of action. They snuck out of the broom cupboard, finding the Entrance Hall mercifully empty. They were already on the fifth floor by the time Remus realized that he’d fought giving the password to James and Sirius ever since he was made a prefect, and it made him look up in vexation. Sirius was grinning like the kneazle that got the cream.

“Spring clean,” he muttered reluctantly at the door and Sirius fell into him, crowing victoriously. They stepped into the great bathroom with its tank-sized tub and its soft piles of fluffy towels. The room was warm and they both got undressed in no time. Sirius had no reservations about being naked, apparently not even now that he had a trail of dried come on his belly, and Remus realized he too was becoming less self-conscious with Sirius than he had ever thought would be possible. 

Sirius filled the tub with a combination of creamy, pear-scented froth and the bubbles that would hold the weight of a human, betraying the fact that he must have been in this bathroom a fair few times before. When it was full Sirius gestured for Remus to lie down on his back and Remus did, albeit gingerly and whilst attempting to cover up his scarred hip and his prick and the mess around it at least a little. It felt like lying on an oily waterbed and Remus was hard again as soon as the froth slicked up against him. Sirius was on him immediately, sitting down almost on his erection and sighing contentedly at the sight of Remus’s prone shape. Remus blushed and that made Sirius grin deviously. 

Remus was then treated to the most thorough massage he had ever received. Sirius might be too impatient to spend very long on any individual part, except the sexual ones, of course, but he touched everything, was a quick study and seemed to be able to read Remus’s face for what felt good. He used the creamy, oily soap around them sparingly at first, but the texture and their position and Sirius’s confident hands made Remus come from just having his thighs kneaded. Sirius hadn’t even gotten to his prick yet. As Remus stuttered out his release Sirius’s mouth descended on his groin, slurping and eating come in the most undignified of ways and Remus couldn’t help but watch and moan even more. Sirius’s hands dug forcefully through the stiff foam and suddenly he was groping Remus’s arse while he mouthed over his quickly resurrecting prick. 

It had to be wrong to have someone else touch you in this intimate a way, of that Remus was certain. He’d never felt better in his life, though. Sirius massaged his buttocks and lower thighs, digging into tight spots in a way that released tensions Remus had never known were there, and all the while he kissed Remus all around his groin, mouth open and tongue pressing in almost like his fingers were on the other side. Sirius’s fingers even stroked over his arsehole, but only on the outside and for that Remus was grateful. It was all a bit too much and too fast, and he could tell from the overwhelming sensations from where he was being rubbed that it would unleash a whirlwind of emotions if he were to let Sirius in. 

Sirius sat back up after a while and began lathering obscene amounts of the creamy bubbles into Remus’s upper body. Then he got back to what was now a rock-hard erection and Remus whimpered as he watched Sirius fill his hands with the heavy liquid, holding it high over Remus’s body only to let it splatter down on his prick. It made Remus squirm and gyrate his hips and resulted in him losing control over what was coming out of his mouth, whether it was words of encouragement or drool or swears or desperate subhuman noises. Sirius repeated the motion several times until Remus’s prick was a twitching and bloated mess underneath thick globs of pear-scented soap. His overworked stomach muscles and thighs were trembling too, and Remus’s vision went blurry for seconds when Sirius finally took his prick in hand. He couldn’t get a firm grip on it, of course, and Remus panted open-mouthedly as he watched his overstimulated prickhead appear and disappear out of Sirius’s smeary fist, dribbles of creamy soap spilling around it like copious amounts of come. Sirius seemed quite mesmerized by this visual as there were no teasing remarks or even sweet nothings designed to soothe Remus’s nerves from him. 

Remus came loudly and forcefully despite the unusual friction and Sirius hovered over the leaking erection, looking almost upset that he couldn’t lick it since it was all covered in soap. He let go of Remus but then pressed the flat of his hand on it instead, rubbing gently and dragging his fingers through the white. 

“That felt so good,” Remus told him a bit uselessly and struggled to sit up. He was exhausted and the bed of soap was starting to give. Sirius sighed happily and flung himself down, and Remus got on top in turn, set on returning at least some of the favour. Sirius pulled him back down instead and began wrestling with him, bodies sliding together with the soap and both having to splutter as they inadvertently got some in their faces, although thankfully it seemed to be charmed not to irritate their eyes. It felt amazing and dirty at the same time even though it was soap they were rolling around and smearing each other with, and thus as clean as anything. 

As the playfighting slowed down Remus got plenty of opportunity to acquaint himself with Sirius’s body in turn. It was so strong and well-proportioned that it was all a little unfair, and Remus almost told Sirius as much. That was an ego that really didn’t need stroking, however, and Remus settled on stroking his muscular back instead, even daring to grope his arse a little. He rubbed soap over Sirius’s chest and into his armpits, stretching out his athletic arms over his head and followed them all the way to his hands and fingers. Sirius knitted their fingers together and pulled Remus down completely over himself, stretched out with all Remus’s limbs aligned over Sirius’s and a layer of creamy froth between them. They kissed and kissed, everything tasting of pear and soap. 

Remus still felt as if he was drowning in Sirius’s mouth when there was a sudden swoosh and drop and both boys found themselves under water. Sirius grabbed onto him and pulled him up through the surface, which felt a bit unnecessarily chivalric, but Remus recognized it as a well-meant gesture and kissed Sirius soundly once they’d both stopped laughing. 

When they got back to Gryffindor tower James and Peter were still up, on James’s bed and playing exploding snap. There were knowing grins on both their faces, and Remus blushed deeply. He couldn’t cope, couldn’t deal with this right now. Sirius got undressed and into fresh pants in no time and jumped onto the bed while Remus went off to brush his teeth.

“Do you realize you’ve been gone for hours?” James asked and he was barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. “We’ve got classes in two hours!”

“Is little Prongs getting too old to pull all-nighters now?”

“Certainly not, I’m awake, aren’t I! Just saying. I guess you didn’t get detention, then?”

“Deal me too, I want in. We’ve got an hour to kill before breakfast, you say?”

“You smell like you’ve been marinating in an orchard, Sirius.”

Remus dared a look at them, and James and Peter immediately looked up and grinned at him. 

“Goodnight, then,” he said awkwardly and laid down on his bed, not bothering to pull the curtains shut. He didn’t want to give the others an opportunity to talk about him even if he was going to try to get that hour of sleep in. 

“Sweet dreams,” Sirius said shamelessly and without as much as looking up. James laughed quietly into his cards, at least he did until they exploded on him. Sirius and Peter roared with laughter in turn and Remus smiled and closed his eyes. The embarrassment was melting away and he felt oddly safe and content with life, even though he thought another interpretation of events would be that he was walking through a minefield. 

“I win!” Peter shouted gleefully and Remus drifted off to sleep.


	43. Where were you while we were getting high?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis.

The Defence lesson finished and there was a loud scraping of chairs. Professor Scarborough, a serious and even-keeled witch of short stature and pale ginger hair, had assigned them to write two scrolls of parchment on arguments for utilizing the shield charm versus the disarming spell in combat situations, even though James had tried to get her to postpone the essay because of the upcoming quidditch game and the Hogsmeade weekend. She had been unwavering, but not unkind, and even wished James good luck.

James ruffled both Sirius’s and Remus’s hair before jogging off to quidditch practice, vague shout of goodbye over his shoulder. Peter liked to think that the shout was for him, as he hadn’t had his hair ruffled.

Sirius sent off a jinx that was presumably meant for Prongs, but that soared past him towards Professor Scarborough instead. She was, it became clear, very quick with her wand. There was a smattering noise like rain on a glass pane when the spell hit her shield charm. 

“What spell was that, Mr Black?” she asked, the question stopping Mary, Lily and Marlene in their tracks, half-way through the doorway. 

“Sorry about that, Professor! It was just something to unravel that ghastly scarf of his, transfigure the yarn into butterflies.”

“Of course it was,” Professor Scarborough said, nodding in comprehension. She didn’t look too cross, and maybe she did have a soft spot for Sirius? Peter eyed her intently, but then he got distracted by the girls in the doorway. Marlene was giggling quite loudly and trying to catch Sirius’s eye. Peter realized, from the way the girls were looking at Sirius and their Professor, that they probably hadn’t forgotten the discussion Peter had had with Remus about Sirius’s possibly unsavoury relations with Professor Scarborough. Marlene hadn’t even overheard that discussion, which meant the girls had been gossiping about it. Peter shared a worried look with Remus, who had no doubt realized the same thing. Sirius appeared completely at ease, however, and their Professor was still eyeing him almost indulgently. Not good. 

“James has no reason to walk around with a scarf that has a cat’s backside on it,” Sirius elaborated. 

“He supports Puddlemere United, cattails are their symbol, Sirius,” Dotty interrupted, edging past them and joining the other Gryffindor girls. 

“You don’t say,” Sirius began loudly, but Dotty turned her back on his theatrical act of surprise. Peter could see her lean in to listen to whatever Marlene whispered into her ear, Dotty’s eyes immediately bulging with glee and shock. Lily looked rather uncomfortable and Peter saw her send Remus an apologetic look. Of course, Peter realized suddenly, Sirius hadn’t been doing forbidden things with his Professor. No, silly Peter. He’d been doing the deed with someone much closer to home.

“Maybe we should leave Professor Scarborough to get on with her day,” Remus said. His hand twitched, as though he really wanted to touch Sirius to get his attention. Maybe even grab his hand, Peter realized. What a strange thing to realize about your two best friends. Peter watched Remus’s hand intently, wondering if he would get proof of what he suspected. Then Sirius grabbed the twitching hand and brought it to himself, bowing over it and touching his mouth to it.

“Don’t,” Remus said in a horrified whisper, his delicate features distorted by his suddenly bright red skin. Peter grinned. The girls and their professor all laughed as if it was just another Marauder joke. To all intents and purposes, it sort of was.

Sirius kept his hold of Remus’s hand, eyes gleaming as if he was concocting a devious prank, and he dragged Remus out of the classroom, edging past the girls. 

It took Peter several seconds to realize he had been left behind.

It was two hours until dinner and the corridors were full of students going to their final lessons for the day. The fifth years all had a free period, and as Peter meandered through the corridors, he spotted a few fifth year Ravenclaws practising duelling in an empty classroom. He saw Marlene again on the fourth floor, she was dragging the Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team behind her, rather like Sirius had pulled Remus along. Presumably looking for an unoccupied broom cupboard. Peter wondered what it would be like to be that way. To have that type of confidence and experience. 

He hadn’t seen Pippa today since breakfast, but his thoughts never strayed far from her. He wondered if she had enjoyed her Valentine’s chocolates. Wondered if she had any idea who they were from. Maybe he should have signed his name on the card. 

Peter walked past the portrait of a young witch playing the harp and singing a Medieval song about a knight and his hippogriff, mostly in tune. She had dark hair and eyes and snow-white skin. Peter stopped to watch, and he gave her a hearty round of applause when she finished.

It felt strange to make a noise when he was by himself. Peter was not a loud one by nature. Left to his own devices Peter was similar to Remus in that regard, they both got on with their business quietly. Remus preferred not to be seen in any situation, but Peter had discovered that he did love the spotlight as long as he had James and the others within that same circle of light. He was so used to always being around them that it was quite a shock to the system to be out in the corridors on his own. Applauding in a silly way would have been natural with the others, but now it made him feel like a right fool. A fifth year Slytherin called Shafiq was walking his way, staring disdainfully down his nose at Peter, and Peter shrank back into the tapestry of the woman. His heart was rabbiting away and he couldn’t keep his eyes focused on the other boy, his gaze kept darting around the corridor. Shafiq passed by without attacking.

It took Peter seconds to calm back down. He cursed himself for drawing attention to himself in such a foolish way, and he cursed himself even more for acting like a coward in front of the enemy. Everyone knew that Slytherins only attacked when they were in groups. Except for Snape, of course. 

Peter thought longingly of James. With him, Peter would barely have noticed a single Slytherin prancing through the corridors, let alone fear him. James was the best.

Peter continued walking. He thought he might send a letter to his mother. She had sent rather a long epistle last week, where she fretted over him and admonished him in equal measure. His mother’s particular brand of being anxious and patronizing him in the same breath always set his teeth on edge, but he knew from experience that it got much worse if he didn’t reply to her letters. On occasion she had even written to his Head of House. 

“Mary?”

Peter stopped in his tracks after only a few steps. Mary Macdonald was standing behind a gargantuan vase, wand in hand and a mixture of resignation and anguished fear on her face. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Mary croaked. Her voice broke and she swallowed several times. Peter wasn’t sure what to do or say. Something was clearly wrong, but he was useless in situations like these.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked tentatively, thinking that it would be rude to just walk off without saying anything. Hopefully she’d reply in the affirmative. 

“I’m so used to having Lily around,” Mary said, and Peter noted uncomfortably that that was not an answer to his question. 

“I see,” he lied. 

“I don’t like being on my own like this anymore. I keep fretting.”

“Oh,” Peter said, and suddenly he understood. The realization on his face seemed to scare Mary anew, and she withdrew behind the vase again. “The Slytherins are horrible people, aren’t they?” Peter said knowledgeably.

Mary looked intently at the floor. Peter had no idea how to procede. He wanted to ask what Mulciber had done to her, wanted to ask where in the school it had happened. She would think he was insensitive if he asked, and to be perfectly honest she would be right. He wondered what the others would do in this situation. James would try to laugh it off and say something genuinely cutting about Mulciber. Remus would be comforting, would know the right thing to say to make Mary feel better.

“I’m going to the Owlery,” Peter said, “would you like to come with me?”

“No thank you,” Mary answered. She didn’t even have to think about it, it seemed. Peter tried not to feel disappointed, it wasn’t as if he was desperate for her company or anything. A nagging voice at the back of his head told him that if it had been James or Remus who had asked, she would have said yes. They would have been able to make her feel better, able to act as a temporary substitute for Lily.

“Right,” he said awkwardly and watched her step back out from behind the vase and walk off in the other direction towards Gryffindor Tower. Peter continued towards the Owlery.

The letters to his mother were never simple affairs. They had to be long and detailed enough for her to be satisfied he wasn’t being evasive or outright lying, but at the same time he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her about the magnificent flying squid, for instance, so he told her about how well James was flying, how he’d managed to catch the quaffle one-handedly while spinning round and round on his broom during the last practice Peter had witnessed. 

He could not tell his mother about what Sirius and Remus were getting up to, or rather what he suspected they were getting up to. (James wouldn’t tell, but that only strengthened Peter’s suspicions. And Remus was so flustered; Peter hadn’t seen him this nervous since they’d caught him out for being a werewolf in their first year.) Nor could he tell his mother how beautiful Pippa Philpott was, and so he told her about how James was still in love with Lily Evans, which was not exactly news, but that was the only romantic topic he felt safe writing to his mother about. James had not gotten to so much as kiss her, which meant there was nothing for Peter’s mother to disapprove of there. He’d made the mistake of writing to her years ago about Sirius and Marlene, which had led to an awkward letter about the merits of abstinence. Better let his mother think unrequited pining was all that went on in Peter’s peer group. 

Their successful breaking and entering and redecorating the Slytherin Common Room was another topic he had to keep mum on. Mrs Pettigrew had been a Slytherin, and it was safe to say a prank involving sex toys would not be to her taste. To pad out his letter, Peter ended up writing more things about James. How excited he was about the upcoming game, how Peter would be there to cheer James on, how James had suggested they go explore in the mountains behind Hogsmeade if the weather was fine on the Hogsmeade weekend, how James had been kind enough to practice shield charms with Peter. Then he remembered that Remus had helped him with two essays and he wrote that down, too. His mother mocked him for his school performance, and she likewise enjoyed admonishing him for accepting help from his friends. It wasn’t easy to know what to tell her that could potentially be met with approval, but at least this would give her something to complain about next time she wrote.

Peter borrowed a school owl as he couldn’t see James’s owl anywhere. All four Marauders used Odin to send letters, which meant he was kept busy. Peter was a little bit scared of the one-eyed bird with the vicious glare and steely beak, and he didn’t mind using a school owl at all.

The corridors were still quiet when he made his way to Gryffindor Tower to find the others. The last lesson hadn’t quite finished, but dinner was approaching and Peter was starving. When he finally reached the top of the staircase and opened the door to his dormitory, he consequently opened the door without hesitating. Before he had time to say anything or even step into the room, his eyes caught up with what was happening in front of him. Sirius and Remus were going at each other in the middle of the room, snogging like they had been going for hours, rocking on the spot and with their hands on each other. Peter backed a few steps, door closing, and almost toppled over himself and down the dormitory staircase. 

Well, now he knew for sure.


	44. Ever since I was a young boy I've played the silver ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Pinball Wizard" by The Who.

James was jampacked with adrenalin. Literally, he thought that if a bludger was to split him in half now, there wouldn’t be much blood inside; it would all be adrenalin. He was furthest down in a formation of chasers, Amanda flying above him and Cara yet higher up and slightly in front, in possession of the quaffle. Perry Proudfoot, one of the Ravenclaw chasers, was trying to break in from the side, trying to get in between James and Amanda just as Cara dropped the quaffle for Amanda to pick up…

“Potter’s lying flat on his broom and spinning round, pretending to be a muggle missile by the looks of it, take a look at that, folks! Merlin’s twirly beard, this will get us one dizzy Gryffindor star chaser! Proudfoot’s keeping his distance, and who can blame him, Potter almost crashes into Amanda Roper…”

“Does not!” James hollered, admittedly a bit dizzy but this was all part of a greater plan…

“Cara Cadwallader has snuck up on the other side of Proudfoot, brakes right in front of him and will this lead to one or the other falling off their brooms?”

“Manda!” James shouted wildly, leaning to the left to try to regain his balance. A bludger sent from a Ravenclaw beater hurtled in between them, and the remaining two of the Ravenclaw chasers were racing forth, one set on Amanda and one on James…

James’s broom was the faster one, and Amanda flung the quaffle towards him as he advanced on the Ravenclaw goal hoops, still listing a bit to the right… 

“Which hoop will Potter aim for? He looks about ready to fall of his broom, he takes aim to the right…”

James changed his mind at the last second, pretended to toss at the centre hoop, but let go to the right just like the commentator had said… 

The Ravenclaw keeper flailed around in front of the centre one and the quaffle soared past her. James did not have time to see if it went in as he was crashed into by one of the Ravenclaw chasers, and his already compromised balance made him slide to the left, core muscles and thighs doing the heavy lifting to prevent him from hanging upside down. Another bludger just brushed his shoulder but at the same time the roar from the audience let him know that he had scored another goal. He flung his arms out in victory, not up but to the side as he wasn’t flying upright anymore, and he spun around a few times to realign his world, arms stretched out to celebrate, to make sense of what was up and down. 

It was times like these that he was grateful there were strong, temporary sticking charms for his glasses.

“Ravenclaw is in possession of the quaffle. Proudfoot passes to Rai. Excellent display of the sloth-grip from Proudfoot, that bludger soars right over his broom! Rai is getting closer, and there’s another bludger getting perilously close to O’Doherty’s beater’s bat-”

“Get in, Aisling!” James roared. He was speeding up to position himself underneath Lakshana Rai and the quaffle, and Amanda was doing the same. Aisling had caught up with the bludger and James could hear the cracking noise as she hit it.

“-Rai swerves, and will she go in for a shot or try to pass it?”

“Over here!” James shouted as loudly as he could, sneaking up close to Rai while the bludger soared past them all. Rai startled, both from the shout and the bludger, and tried to get away in the other direction to make her shot, which meant she almost collided with Amanda. 

“Roper is trying to wrestle the quaffle out of Rai’s hands. Ravenclaw’s very own Proudfoot is gaining on them, and of course Potter is right there in the thick of it…”

“YES!” James shouted and did a pirouette facing diagonally upwards, which he had to end as the quaffle was abruptly hauled in his direction. 

“Roper takes possession, and now Potter has the quaffle! We all know what that means, ladies and gentlemen…”

“That’s right!” James yelled, ducking his body to the side as the tell-tale whistling noise of a bludger with a purpose reached his ears. It missed him, although he could feel his hair whipping up on the side. The centre and right hoop were in front of him, but he still had some way to fly if he wanted to have a chance of getting it in, a long way to go if he wanted to take his shot at a comfortable distance. Unless…

“McNally and Chang are going bludger-crazy here, and what a treat it is to see these strong fore-arms in action. Let’s see what Potter does with the next one signed McNally-“

James had shot straight up long before that sentence was finished, the bludger hitting the bristles of his fancy new Cleansweep Six and making the whole broom tilt backwards. With a resounding war cry (if he did say so himself), James launched his arms holding the quaffle back over his head and pushed his broom forward like he was astride a catapult. Scratch that, James _was_ the catapult. 

It was a long shot, an unexpected shot, and that was probably what made all the difference.

“Merlin’s beard, Potter takes the shot from up there! He’s just avoided getting hit by the second bludger and he doesn’t even stop to – IT’S A GOAL! Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor!”

James took a leap of victory around the stadium, flapping his arms around impressively and sunning himself in the applause and happy jeers. He spotted his fellow Marauders in the stalls, Peter with a banner that read “James is King” and Sirius with his face painted to the likeness of a gold-faced lion. They shouted something flattering about his prowess with handling balls as he flew by.

“Ravenclaw’s in possession of the quaffle. Goldstein to Rai, Rai to Proudfoot, back to Goldstein…”

James leant forward on his broom, trying to egg it on verbally to get it to fly faster. Two of the chasers on Ravenclaw had the same broom as him, and it was the fastest broom currently on the market. Another bludger and both teams’ seekers soared past him, and James tried to bump into the Ravenclaw seeker. 

“Has the snitch been spotted? Both teams certainly seem to think so. Masters and Quirke are hot on the heels of... Ah, Masters is feinting, false alarm everyone! There goes Quirke, flying back towards the other side of the pitch and making excellent use of his middle and index fingers…” 

James was gaining on the Ravenclaw chasers, he could see Amanda taking her position underneath the trio, could see Cara, the third Gryffindor chaser, readying herself to crash into Proudfoot who was holding the quaffle.

“Sloth, James!” came Aislings voice, and James immediately rolled around, hung upside down on his broom…

CRASH! Aisling had apparently hit one bludger, while one of the Ravenclaw beaters had hit the other one. Both bludgers collided in mid-air where James’s head had been half a second previously. James laughed with delight as they both fell several feet on either side of him, before picking up speed again… 

“There’s the snitch!” James shouted, pointing wildly in front of him. He had noticed that the Ravenclaw seeker was within hearing distance, and whilst hanging upside down he had spotted the Gryffindor seeker diving frantically, on the opposite end of the pitch, in what was unlikely to be a second feint. He ducked one bludger coming back for him, then pointed slightly to the left, then had to wrench his arm out of the way for the second bludger. The Ravenclaw seeker had stopped in mid-air, staring first in the direction he had pointed, then at him, then he swore angrily…

“The snitch has indeed been spotted, but not by Potter! C’mon Quirke, you’ve got to know Potter’s tactics by now! Masters is still in dive, getting dangerously close to crashing into the pitch. Quirke is too far away, surely he can’t catch up… MASTERS HAS THE SNITCH! Gryffindor wins, 220 to 20!”

“We won!” Aisling roared and dived in to hug James awkwardly from behind, both still on their brooms. He aligned their brooms so that they were facing each other, his right hand in her left and they spun around like in a strange dance of a lethally wide circumference, laughing and shouting and twirling faster and faster.

“Get down to earth, kids!” Tony Lambeth, their captain, was shouting at them, and James and Aisling reluctantly stopped their faux dance. James would have stumbled and fallen over when he hit the ground (his head was spinning at the same pace half a bottle of Firewhisky usually put it in), but the pitch was packed with well-wishers and Sirius, Remus and Peter got to him almost immediately, hugging him and pressing close enough that he couldn’t fall over.

“Better hit the showers now Prongs, because there’s an epic party waiting for you once you’re fit for human company!”


	45. You went back to what you knew, so far removed from all that we went through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse.

Sirius had been charged with arranging the victory party after the match in the Gryffindor common room. He’d known it was to be a victory party long before the game took place, of course, and so he had gone all out. The old sheets featuring rude depictions of a lion skull-fucking a snake that he honestly hadn’t had a hand in designing, were up on the walls again despite the fact that they had just played Ravenclaw, and the large stuffed cuddly lion dressed in a Gryffindor scarf was likewise back because of popular demand. Anyone was allowed to snuggle up to Gawain, as they had named him, and he not only was the size of Hagrid, he also was hot like a furnace and purred incessantly if you rubbed his belly (probably much like the actual Hagrid, although Sirius regrettably had not gotten close enough to the half-giant to test this theory out). There was a steady fall of glittery red confetti falling from the ceiling, and Sirius refused to admit that the spell had gone awry. Three hours into the party the confetti reached everyone to their knees, but Sirius failed to see how this was a problem. The music was mostly T-Rex and Bowie tonight, although the occasional ABBA album did sneak through, and in all fairness, Sirius did sing along to that as much as he did to everything else. He had also put up a neat illusion spell he and James had spent hours developing in the middle of the room. It looked much like a pane of glass, but if you walked through it your actions slowed down to half-time, which meant everyone walked and talked much slower than normal if they passed through it. The more you drank, the funnier it became, and if you didn’t appreciate the effect, all you had to do was walk backwards through the glass-like pane to revert the spell and get back to normal. Not that Sirius told anyone this for the first hour, no, he of course waited until the uppity sixth year prefects were at the end of their tether, shouting abuse at him in half-time, and attracting the attention of everyone in the common room despite how many times Agnetha, Björn, Benny and Anni-Frid requested their S.O.S. 

The food had been procured from the House Elves as usual, and the drink… Actually, the drink was running out. Sirius frowned as he raised the nearest Firewhisky bottle and turned it upside-down over his face, a small splash of the amber liquid hitting his magnificent gold lion makeup.

As it was his responsibility, he regretfully climbed out through the portrait hole with James’s cloak and James’s money bag and made his way to the secret passage in the corridor behind the Entrance Hall. It was a dull path to walk on his own, in fact he couldn’t remember a time he had had to do this alone. As soon as he was inside of the secret passage, he pulled off the cloak, placed it securely underneath his gorgeous new red and gold sequined shirt, and turned into Padfoot. Padfoot was much more upbeat than him, gambolling up the passageway whilst barking excitedly, occasionally stopping to sniff the packed earth on the floor of the tunnel. The world of smells was an exciting one, thought Padfoot, and although the memories of everything he smelt did disgust Sirius once he turned human, it intrigued him in almost equal measure. 

Once Padfoot had had at least part of his fill from the smells a dingy old tunnel could offer, he made very quick work of the way to Hogsmeade, and Sirius, moderately drunk both as dog and human, stumbled out of the potato cellar at the other end mid-transformation, almost tripping over the cobblestones. He sent the Three Broomsticks a regretful look, knowing as he did that Rosmerta would never sell him Firewhisky. Instead he steered his steps to the Hog’s Head, which was some way further up the road, where the houses were rather less well-kept and where you could see the end of the road and the feet of the mountains in whose shadow Hogsmeade had sprung up. 

The first person he saw once he strolled into the bar was his brother Regulus. Sirius stopped just inside the door and stared him down, unsure like he never usually was. Had he not run away, had Regulus not watched their father hit him full in the face, Sirius would probably have mock-chastised his brother for being in a bar students only ever went to if they were buying liquor, or, rumour had it, drugs. Regulus wasn’t really part of that crowd; Sirius supposed he was quite young still (although you might say that that had never stopped Sirius himself), and anyway it was more common for half-bloods and muggleborns to party hard. In some Slytherin circles it was certainly frowned upon, considered ‘muggle’, and Sirius had a bad feeling that this was Regulus’s crowd. 

“Kneazle got your tongue?” Regulus said quietly. This drew the attention of the people he was with, and Sirius, to his great frustration, noted that these people included both Mulciber and Snape. He wondered angrily which secret passageway the crème de la crème of Slytherin knew of and hoped it wasn’t one of the better ones.

“It’s supposed to be a lion,” Sirius explained while gesturing to his painted face and using the same tone he had once used to explain the mechanics of sex to his little brother. Regulus sighed and made for the door. Sirius raised his voice: “I quite understand you lot will want to celebrate our win, too, but there’s no need to get overexcited. Don’t let me find you drunkenly desecrating muggle gravestones.”

“Don’t let me find you spewing in the gutter,” Regulus retorted immediately, and then he was out the door. Sirius stared after him, uncomfortably aware that he, indeed, was the bigger drinker and the more likely to do something stupid while drunk out of the two of them. The question was if Regulus needed to be drunk to be stupid. The other Slytherins, who all appeared to be a bit older than his brother, were following him out, muttering something about the abysmal standard of the clientele in the bar. 

“Look at his fucking face,” one of the Slytherins commented in an undertone as he passed, and it immediately made Sirius stick his nose in the air.

“This face gets me laid, sweet cheeks,” he said loudly and pushed past the remaining ones to get to the bartender. He walked backwards the last steps, fingers on his wand so as not to give the Slytherins his back as a target. No spells came. His face was well known in this bar, he supposed, lion make-up or not, and the Slytherins likely understood that they wouldn’t get away with hurting him in here. 

“Wroar,” the bartender said quietly when Sirius turned to face him, and he stared back in mild shock and with absolute approval. 

“We won,” Sirius said. 

“So I gather.”

“You ever play yourself?”

There was a pause as the bartender fumbled with a grimy pint glass, the kind of grimy that passed for washed in the Hog’s Head. He wasn’t a big talker, hence Sirius’s surprise that he had voluntarily said anything at all.

“I did. I was kicked off the team for indecent exposure sometime in the last century.”

Sirius gaped at the old man, which was probably a bit rude, but what else was he supposed to do? Then he thought better of it and extended his arm over the bar. The bartender stopped what he was doing and, after some hesitation, dropped the glass and shook Sirius’s hand. 

“A wizard after my own tastes,” Sirius said vaguely, trying and possibly failing to not sound as if he was coming onto the (apparently even more ancient than he had thought) keeper of the Hog’s Head. 

“You’ll be here for something to celebrate with, no doubt?” the old man asked. His hand was wet and covered in whelks and Sirius refrained from asking for a napkin to clean his hand with.

“Ten bottles ought to do it,” he said instead, gently rattling the money pouch in his pocket. 

“That’ll be six galleons,” the bartender said humourlessly, and Sirius rightfully frowned at him. He had gotten it much cheaper before, once he and James had figured out that they were being overcharged sometime around fourth year. 

“In that case you better be including some mead, as well. Maybe the treacle flavoured stuff.”

There was a pause, but then a small huff and an almost indiscernible nod. Sirius relaxed and counted out the money whilst the bar keeper hauled bottle after bottle onto the bar. A clever little charm later and Sirius was carrying the lot on his back, in miniature format and with some cushioning charms around to keep the bottles from breaking.

It had gotten completely dark outside, and with the lights from the windows of the quaint cottages and ancient townhouses the only light source, Sirius did his best not to trip over the uneven roads. So focused on his feet was he, that the attack took him completely by surprise.

“Scolopendra!”

“Aaargh!”

Sirius wrestled with the creepy crawlies that were suddenly invading his person, the pattering of tiny feet on the back of his neck, on his chest underneath his shirt, something even at the back of his thighs…

“Petrificus Totalus!”

There was laughter as Sirius’s body froze and toppled over, hitting the cold wet cobblestones. He had one hand in his hair where he had tried to get rid of whatever this was, and now he could feel tiny, rhythmical feet almost slithering between his fingers.

“Let’s go before someone finds us!”

Sirius didn’t even recognize the voice, nor could he tell how many people there had been. His mind was completely preoccupied with trying not to panic, anyway, as he could feel something move over his cheek, almost like a wayward strand of hair, only with tiny insect legs…

“Liquor get to you already?”

Sirius would have sighed in relief if he’d been at all able to move, because this voice he did recognize. Although, maybe Regulus was here to further humiliate him?

Regulus undid the body-bind curse non-verbally, and Sirius did let out that sigh of relief and began to obsessively shake out his clothes, hair whipping around his face like Padfoot after a good long swim, and he watched dozens of centipedes fall to the ground.

“Well, this is a spell I won’t forget in a hurry,” Sirius muttered. “Cheers,” he added reluctantly. His brother was standing several feet away, alone and with his heavy, fur-trimmed winter cloak around him. Sirius had had an identical one, once. Sirius felt around on his back, congratulating himself for thinking of the cushioning charms. All the Firewhisky bottles appeared to be intact. He was beginning to get cold, though, in his bright sequined shirt and muggle jeans. Winter coats were for amateurs, though. Regulus wrapped the big cloak around himself, looking as if the mere sight of Sirius’s clothes was making him freeze. Regulus was still much slighter than him and didn’t wear the cloak as well as Sirius would have. Had. 

“They were Ravenclaws,” Regulus stated haughtily, silvery eyes fixed on a point just above Sirius’s shoulder. “Didn’t realize you were this unpopular in other houses, too.”

Sirius schooled his features to be just as blank as his brother’s, refusing to show any amount of surprise. He’d absolutely thought they had been Slytherins, but then it made more sense now that he hadn’t been able to recognize their voices.

“Probably someone I’ve shagged and dropped,” he said instead, which was the first explanation that popped into his mind. With an uncomfortable, twisting feeling in his stomach, he realized that it was probably the correct conclusion. 

“Right,” Regulus said, sounding supremely unimpressed, “well, as fun as it is to save you from your previous sins, I’d better get a move on. I only popped into the Three Broomsticks to get some butterbeers to go, and the others will no doubt be waiting for me.”

“How did you get here, anyway?” Sirius asked, and seconds after he had to jump half a foot into the air as a centipede dangled in front of his eyes, apparently holding on to his left eyebrow.

“You didn’t actually think you and your friends were alone in finding that passageway next to Brünhilde and the ring of fire? You’re not the only ones who are in on the secrets the school has to offer.”

Sirius couldn’t help the smirk on his face, and Regulus huffed irritably and began to turn around.

“Did you like the new décor in your common room?” Sirius asked obnoxiously loudly. 

“Can’t believe you used to be the older one,” Regulus muttered, and Sirius laughed to his hearts content until he couldn’t see his brother anymore. His former brother. Sirius felt a bit sick and the laughter stopped abruptly. He heard the last volley of an echo, throwing itself up the ancient, narrow street, and then it was gone. Really and truly gone.

When he got back to Gryffindor Tower (having run into Mrs Tattler while underneath the cloak and promptly charmed her whiskers to curl and her claws to turn neon-pink) he found it mostly deserted. He huffed in annoyance; he really had been looking forward to a big, debauched party but apparently most had gone to bed already, no doubt in direct consequence of the absence of alcohol. Then he heard laughter coming from the open window. Someone had gotten his confetti charm under control and it was no longer raining red glitter inside, although there was a fair amount still on the floor that he had to wade through as he walked up to the window to stick his head out.

“Oi Black, get up here! We need more booze!”

“Coming right up, McKinnon!” Sirius hollered back, then pulled himself up on the window ledge to figure out how the others had all gotten up on the roof. He found a faintly glowing, rickety looking ladder going up the wall, and he climbed out and began his ascent. The air was cold outside, around zero degrees, and Sirius thought he could understand why hard liquor was direly needed.


	46. I had me a boy, turned him into a man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Elle King's "Ex's & Oh's".

Remus and Peter were passing one of the many Firewhisky bottles in the Common Room between them. The party was just getting started and they were perched on a window sill at a safe distance away from the record player and close enough to the food that Peter could summon snacks without risking it hitting anyone in the face on the way over and thus starting a food fight (this had happened during the last two Common Room parties and Remus, for one, was not interested in a repeat performance). The other two Marauders were moving around the party like two whirlwinds splitting host duties between them. After a ramshackle and surprisingly violent dance performance to the tune of “Get it On” by T-Rex, James and Sirius had parted ways and spent their time entertaining different parts of the room. James had put on a fresh set of quidditch gear, just in case anyone had missed the fact that he played, and was now beaming under the constant onslaught of congratulations for his stellar performance and regaling his audience with detailed accounts of his thought process (or lack thereof) whenever the quaffle was in his hands. Sirius, who was a fast flier and an abysmal team-player, was entertaining his audience not with quidditch stories, but with recounts of muggle house parties and clubbing he had partaken in in London. Remus decided to turn a deaf ear to that, as he could do without further reminders of all the places Sirius had been before he ended up in Remus’s bed.

“Enjoy the game, Remus?”

It was Lily, dressed in a long purple dress and with a teasing smile on her face. Peter spilt some Firewhisky on himself in surprise and Remus could feel him squirming next to him, presumably looking for James to get him to come join them.

“I stayed awake throughout, thanks for asking” Remus said mildly, remembering the previous conversation they had had about his lack of interest in quidditch.

“They made quick work of it,” Lily said. “Ravenclaw got demolished.”

“I thought they played well,” Remus said, just to be contrary. He usually either agreed or kept his opinions to himself, no matter what the subject matter. He only expressed something so uncouth as disagreement in the company of his close friends. Something happy bubbled in his stomach and he gave Lily a broad smile. Her expressive eyes glittered and there was a proud tilt to her head. At times like these, Remus could absolutely see why James was as besotted as he was. 

“Are you flirting with Lily?” Peter whispered next to him, sounding scandalized. Remus could only hope Lily didn’t hear that, but the amused look she gave his suddenly scarlet face crushed that hope like an ant caught underneath a particularly vicious heel. 

“I’ve got a date tomorrow in Hogsmeade, and I reckon he might need cheering up after today,” Lily said. Peter froze next to Remus.

“Is he a Ravenclaw?” Remus asked.

“Well deduced. And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

If Remus hadn’t been as red as could be before, he certainly was now. Peter was fidgeting next to him like a mouse with one leg caught in a trap.

“Are you dating anyone?” Lily asked genially, and Remus thought she probably just meant to tease him because she could see how flustered the whole subject was making him. That didn’t make it any easier to come up with a reply, however.

“Umm…”

“A couple of the girls were saying that they think you’re cute,” Lily continued, now sounding more kind than playful. “I could probably hook you up with someone if you wanted a date for tomorrow.”

Remus didn’t have to turn to Peter to know that his chin had just hit the floor, and to be honest, his own wasn’t far from ground-level, either.

“Maybe not just now,” he said awkwardly, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. Peter was clearly dying to get something out next to him, and Remus waited with abated breath.

“Who is it that likes our Remus?” he asked breathlessly. 

“That would be telling,” Lily said, pausing as if for effect. “The one I’m thinking of might be in our year, and in Hufflepuff. That’s as much as you’re getting. What about you, then, Pettigrew? Any plans to treat the ladies of Hogwarts tomorrow?”

“I don’t think they’d want me to treat them to anything at all,” Peter mumbled uncomfortably, and Remus hid a smile with his hand. Lily didn’t bother to cover up her grin. “We were talking about taking a hike in the mountains, weren’t we, Remus? James’s idea.”

“The mountains around Hogsmeade that are out of bounds for students?” Lily asked, and Peter immediately tried to backtrack.

“D’you know what, I think it was actually Sirius’s idea, not James’s. James said we probably shouldn’t, as it’s out of bounds. Just like you said.”

“Sounds exactly like Prongs,” Remus said under his breath and Lily just laughed.

“Is it just me or are people starting to leave already?” Peter said in a blatant attempt to change the subject. 

Remus had a look around the Common Room. Marlene McKinnon and Tony Lambeth, the quidditch captain, were the only people left on the dancefloor, although whether they were dancing or snogging was not something Remus was prepared to make a ruling on from where he sat. James was with Aisling and Amanda, Beater and Chaser respectively, and also Corintha Shacklebolt who was the reserve Keeper. All four appeared to be very drunk and giggly, Remus thought it looked as though James was teaching the others how to curl their eyebrow hair, although it was possible that Remus was mistaken. The Seeker, Felix Masters, was fast asleep in the arms of Gawain the Great Gryffindor Lion, and someone had drawn a series of unflattering images and words over his cheeks and brow. A small group was seated around the fireplace, amongst them Dotty and Azalea from Remus’s year, but the rest of the Gryffindors had apparently already gone to bed.

“So Sirius has gone off with someone,” Remus stated quietly, after checking the room for a second time. No Sirius.

“Actually, I think he went to get more drinks,” Peter said, giving Remus an inscrutable look. Remus blushed and bit his tongue. 

“Where does he get them from?” Lily asked curiously. “Scratch that, where do you lot get alcohol from? Surely it’s impossible to get it from the kitchens?”

“Never you mind,” Peter said evasively. Remus gave her an apologetic smile and shrug. 

“I need air!” a loud voice rang out. The music had stopped leaving a scratching noise from the needle on the record player.

Marlene stalked right up to them, face pleasantly pink and her long blonde hair sticking out in all directions much like the mane of a lion. 

“Move,” she continued, gesturing with one hand to get Remus and Peter to come down from their windowsill. 

“What’s the plan?” Lily asked. The remaining revellers in the Gryffindor Common Room were all moving towards them. Marlene had that effect on people, Remus had noticed that before. She could always be found in the centre of the party, likely because she usually made the party. 

“We’re going to go explore the roof,” Marlene explained. She made the windows bang open with her wand, and then she continued waving it. Remus could see something shimmering forming outside. 

“Why, exactly, are we going to go explore the roof, Marlene?” Lily asked. There was something about the layers of patience in her voice that made Remus think of himself trying to talk James and Sirius out of some of their more thick-skulled pranks.

“I need a smoke,” Marlene explained with a graceful shrug of her shoulders. “Reckon I could use the company. Right, who’s first?”

There was some laughter from the room at large, and giggles coming from James, who Remus noticed was really quite drunk. 

Marlene wasn’t actually waiting for a reply, it seemed, because after less than a second she heaved herself up on the windowsill, fumbling with something just outside of the open window. 

“Ladies first,” Remus said to Lily, who shook her head even as she followed her friend out of the window. 

Marlene had conjured a ladder, which reached all the way up the side of Gryffindor Tower. Remus thought it was very inadvisable to climb up, especially considering how drunk some of their party were, but of course he didn’t have the guts to voice these opinions out loud. That was how he found himself on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, after midnight and breathing in the icy air and the warm smoke of both fags and spliffs. The turret included a small flat area they were able to stand on, although the fence that kept them from falling down several hundred feet was low and withered-looking. Less than a dozen people had followed Marlene up, but apparently that was plenty for her to keep the party going. 

Azalea and Dotty were sitting together in a corner and were singing ‘Waterloo’. Remus and Peter shared a spliff Marlene had handed them in a fit of charity (she had probably gauged that neither Remus nor Peter were likely to join in with what the cool kids were doing and had therefore found another way to keep them feeling included). Everyone else quickly became engaged in a muggle card game that featured plenty of drinking and plenty of awkward sexual information being shared out loud as penalty. Remus wasn’t sure what anyone thought they were gaining by playing this, especially as there was barely any alcohol left and therefore all the more awkward personal information being revealed. It was quite funny when Marlene admitted that her oddest sexual encounter had involved the Bloody Baron (she refused to elaborate), but when it was discovered that James was the only virgin amongst the players Remus did feel absolutely awful as he watched the brave face his best friend put on (Lily, too, was playing.)

“Lucky we aren’t playing,” Peter muttered in between a hearty puff on the spliff (he had told Remus in confidence that he had vowed never to smoke again, but it appeared marijuana did not count), “I wouldn’t want the students in sixth and seventh to know that I’m a…” Peter fell quiet, rather suddenly, and his eyes were surprisingly and piercingly alert for someone in his condition. “Are you still-?”

“Oi Black, get up here! We need more booze!”

Remus snatched the spliff out of Peter’s hand to busy himself with something, anything. His cheeks were burning yet again.

“We’ll have to think of a different game, now,” Marlene said happily as Sirius appeared and began to unload Firewhisky bottles from a contraption he seemed to have charmed to carry them on his back. “Can’t have you playing this, you’re even more of a whore than I am.”

Sirius ducked his head as everyone else laughed, everyone but Remus. Remus tried to catch his eye, but his whole face was cast in darkness and it was impossible to tell if he thought this was as funny as the others. 

“Come here, love,” Tony Lambeth said, stretching out to get Marlene to come to him. They had been dating for over a month, but Remus thought he could detect something unhappy in his voice. 

“What about Never Have I Ever, but without sex questions. That way we could all play,” Sirius suggested. Remus finally caught Sirius’s eye, and to his delight he was given a wink that seemed to send a tickling wave through his belly. Remus coughed on his inhale and had to bend over as Peter patted him on the back. When he came back up the discussion unfortunately had not taken a turn for the better.

“How come you get laid so much anyway?” Tony was asking Sirius, slurring just a couple of his words. Marlene began to giggle and from his vantage point Remus could see Tony’s face turn sour. Likely most of the Gryffindors saw it, maybe with the exception of Marlene. Remus looked worriedly around, finding Lily. She looked as if she was trying to think of something mildly cutting and mostly humorous to say to divert attention. She opened her mouth but wasn’t fast enough.

“He’s good with his mouth,” Azalea said with a small hiccough. There was a second of silence, then several surprised bouts of laughter and to Remus’s horror Marlene actually leaned around Tony to high-five Azalea. Remus stared at Azalea, an overwhelming sense of hurt settling around the region of his heart. He’d had no idea that she, too… She was very pretty, shiny curls and dark skin and light eyes. Enticing mouth and an admirably hourglass-shaped figure. Sexy, Caribbean accent. Remus looked away, looked down on himself instead. His pale, knobbly hands covered in unseemly amounts of freckles, dirty from smoking and splayed out over the unfashionable trousers that covered his skinny thighs and the disgusting scar on his hip. Remus closed his eyes to avoid feeling how much they burnt.

“Hey.”

Remus knew it was Sirius who had plunked down on his other side even before he spoke. He assumed it must be the way he smelt, although he honestly couldn’t say that he could smell anything but the spliff at the moment. Somehow, though, his body just knew…

“Give us a bit of that, mate?” Peter asked from Remus’s other side, and as the Firewhisky bottle was passed over Remus’s lap Remus grabbed it before Peter got it. He took a swig, then another. His head was swimming by the time he handed it on to Peter.

“Having it large, I see,” Sirius mumbled right by his ear, and the amount of stars Remus saw quadrupled.

“It goes against my every principal to say this, but I think we should head back inside,” James said, his head suddenly appearing on Remus’s other side. He gave a small burp that stank of yet more alcohol. 

“Gross,” Remus mumbled.

“Marlene is ready to throw a fit. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her cross before, not even upset.”

“I know he’s your Quidditch Captain, but he is a right berk,” Sirius said quietly. 

“How many bottles did you buy, Sirius?” Peter asked. “Could leave one here for the others and take the rest with us to the dormitory.”

“Good thinking, Wormtail,” James said proudly, and Remus could see how Peter stuck out his chest and squared his shoulders in reaction. 

“Down we go, Moony,” Sirius said gently. Remus let Sirius help him to the ladder, head still spinning dangerously. Sirius climbed down just a step before him, which meant he was bracketing Remus’s body like a human safety construction. Remus found he didn’t mind at all, especially as it meant he could still feel the warmth from Sirius’s body, still smell whatever essence it was that made up the other boy. He could hear James and Peter laugh, presumably at them, but like so many times before the consequences of this seemed to relocate far away in the periphery of his mind.

All four Marauders made it back to the dormitory, as did seven Firewhisky bottles and a small barrel of mead. Remus thought he might puke if he had more, and Sirius seemed reluctant to let go of him, anyway. 

“Let’s go brush our teeth, Wormtail,” James said in a voice that suggested he would start laughing any second now, and Remus swayed a little on the floor and listened to their retreating footsteps. Sirius’s arm was warm around his waist.

“Give us a snog,” Sirius whispered, and Remus opened his mouth without further ado and let Sirius take what he liked. Sirius was manoeuvring him backwards, and when Remus almost fell down he was lifted, suddenly carried in Sirius’s arms and deposited in his own bed. He heard silencing spells, heard Sirius removing clothes, and then the drapes closed around him and there was a warm, pleasantly heavy body on top of him. 

Remus made an encouraging noise and there was that hot mouth again, a hot mouth that was so talented at making him feel good. It got enforcement from the thrilling, forbidden feeling of another set of hands on him, and not just any hands, either, hands that moved over his hips and pushed in between his legs like they knew him. They did know him. 

“We can’t, we’re drunk,” Remus mumbled, tasting whiskey and weed and more whiskey and a little bit of Sirius. Sirius squeezed his length through his trousers, and it didn’t feel wrong at all. 

“You’re mostly there and I’ll get hard eventually,” Sirius mumbled against his lips, “it’ll just take a little bit longer.” His other hand was underneath Remus’s shirt, palm warm and gentle as it stroked his stomach and waist. His lips were just as soft, just like they always were, like he thought Remus might break if he used more pressure, and Remus was dying to ask him why. That would have to wait for another day, though.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Remus had to focus a lot on not slurring his words, his head felt heavy and he was thirsty and his prick was reacting very favourably to being felt up. “It’s wrong if I’m drunk.”

It did register for Remus that this wasn’t an eloquent way of putting things, but before he had a chance to do much else the comforting weight on top of him was gone. Sirius was crawling away from him, looking ready to vomit, and it came to Remus that it wasn’t an effect of the drink. 

“Come back,” he said, voice hoarse and he tried to sit up despite the complete breakdown in coordination within his brain. Sirius froze, already at the other end of the bed. Then Remus saw that he was shivering, although it was toasty inside of the curtains of the fourposter, and the eyes that reluctantly met Remus’s were wide with something far beyond fright. Remus reached out his hand, feeling as if he was trying to placate a wild animal, and when he swallowed there was bile in his throat, possibly from the excessive Firewhisky.

“We’re both drunk,” Remus said carefully, and Sirius suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, just stared at the hand Remus was trying to reach him with. “You’ve not done anything wrong. I don’t know what’s happened before to you…” Remus tried to swallow, felt more bile rise along with a burning feeling behind his eyes. “We can cuddle and sleep it off together.” 

There was a long pause after that, long enough for the small sliver of clear-headedness remaining within Remus to begin to question everything, but then Sirius spoke again.

“I’d like that.” His voice was sober, his eyes dry and completely impenetrable, but they were meeting Remus’s again.

“Ok,” Remus breathed. He pulled some of the blankets up in a wordless invitation, and Sirius crawled back to his side, got in with him. Remus realized he was still fully dressed and he pulled awkwardly at his jumper as Sirius squirmed around to get comfortable. Remus was feeling much more sober now, something was telling him they had just narrowly avoided tripping on a landmine. He got off his jumper and, after a lengthy struggle, his trousers. He flung them unceremoniously out past the drawn curtains.

“This is good,” Sirius said quietly, and it sounded more like a question than anything else. Remus snuggled up to him, which was really inevitable, considering the narrowness of the bed. 

“Very good,” Remus corrected. Sirius’s chest was bare and Remus couldn’t quite stop himself from stroking it. Such a nice body. Remus felt quite secure like this, he still had his underwear and a t-shirt on. Sirius’s arms around him were stationary. Remus realized that he had never slept with anyone before, never spent the whole night in bed with someone before. Despite everything, it was rather thrilling. He stuck his nose into Sirius’s hair, only to be met by something that wasn’t at all nice and silky in texture.

“Sirius, is that a-?”

“A centipede, yeah. Long story.”


	47. Is that concrete all around or is it in my head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "All the Young Dudes" by Mott the Hoople.

Peter woke up with a raging hangover. He’d had his fair share of them already in his one and a half decades, and so he knew what to do. He got out his pair of the sunglasses Moony had gifted them all for Christmas, and after that he fumbled around on his bedside table until he found the jug of water he, in all his great wisdom, had filled last night. He drained it in no time, then had to waddle carefully to the bathroom, trying not to trip over the assortment of clothes that had been discarded all over the dormitory floor. Two sets of quidditch robes, both equally smelly, and both Sirius’s and Remus’s muggle clothes. Peter grinned, although that also hurt his head. 

When he got back to the dorm, he had taken a shower (with his sunglasses on, which had worked surprisingly well) and was feeling mostly alright again. He found James in the process of jumping from foot to foot, standing just outside of Remus’s fourposter. Sirius’s bed was empty.

James turned and winked at him, his wiry body visibly thrumming with what Peter interpreted as morbid curiosity, and then he opened the curtains around Remus’s bed with a flourish worthy of a muggle magician set on revealing a fluffy white rabbit. 

Both Remus and Sirius were there, both still asleep. Remus was almost buried underneath the blankets, with just some unruly wavy curls sticking out. Peter felt quite certain that he was the rabbit in this scenario. Sirius’s arms were wrapped around the bundle of Remus, like he was protecting him from a non-existent chill. James, whose mouth had been open and ready to shout delighted obscenities at the pair, shut his mouth and, after a second’s pause, shut the curtains, too. 

“Some other time, Wormtail,” he said sombrely, “some other time.” Peter nodded his understanding, then winced as it hurt his head to nod. There was a time and a place for everything. 

“Do you have any meat pies lying around?” Peter asked hopefully, and James nodded and began to ransack the pockets of the robes he had worn two days ago. Peter sighed but he was not above accepting one of the two flattened, flaky pies James pulled out, not even when he noticed that someone had already taken a bite out of his. 

It tasted surprisingly good.

“So they’re definitely a thing, then?” Peter said while he chewed. James was devouring his pie at a similar speed, but theirs was too close a friendship to need to bother with table manners, anyway. 

James gave him an uncharacteristically guarded look, which meant that he was sitting on information Sirius had asked him not to repeat. Peter sighed and changed the subject. Maybe he could ask Remus for details, later.

“Are we going up a mountain today, Prongs?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be for the best,” James said. 

James never got proper hangovers. Peter went to dig through his trunk for clothes. He sniffed the Puddlemere United shirt of his that he sometimes wore, even though he supported the Appleby Arrows. It smelled alright and so he pulled it over his head. James gave him fervent thumbs up as he saw what shirt he was wearing. He was just putting on his last pair of clean socks (pair was maybe a stretch, seeing as one sock had yellow polka dots and the other one was an unusual mauve colour) when Sirius suddenly emerged from behind the curtains to Remus’s bed, blinking angrily into the daylit room, skin painted golden and his hair standing out effectfully and mostly to the left. It surprisingly did not look awful on him. He was just in his boxers, and Peter stared curiously at him. 

“Shower, Padfoot, and then we’re off to breakfast. I think we should pack some sandwiches and bring with, and maybe we could bring that mead you got last night as well?”

“Why the fuck would we want more alcohol?” Sirius growled, and if Peter hadn’t experienced a hung-over Sirius just as many times as he had a drunk one, he would definitely have squealed to high heavens and hidden under the bed. As it was, he barely squealed at all. 

“Hair of the dog, mate?” 

James was examining the Marauder’s Map and paying Sirius the bare minimum amount of attention, although one corner of his mouth was twitching as though he did find the situation a bit funny. The over-used dog pun, or the fact that his best friend had just emerged semi-naked from the bed of their other friend. Peter laughed shrilly, just because he wished to partake, but that unfortunately drew Sirius’s attention back to him. 

“Your hair is all funny,” Peter said nervously, and Sirius actually clenched his fists at that. It made his pecs pop in a way that Peter was quite certain his own, admittedly more modest, chest musculature was incapable of. 

“Bad dog,” James said under his breath, and Sirius flung himself across the room and wrestled James into the bed.

“If you have dried spunk on you I will kill you with an electric screwdriver and some tweezers!”

Peter laughed some more, feeling less awkward this time around, and when he looked away from James’s bed, he saw that Remus, too, was awake and trying to sneak off to the showers without anyone noticing. He was wearing slightly more than Sirius, but it still made Peter grin and blow him a kiss. Remus turned a delicious shade of a similar mauve to the one in Peter’s left sock. Then he hurried off to the bathroom. 

Breakfast was a noisy affair at the Gryffindor table, seeing as most hadn’t drunk enough to be badly hungover. Sirius had, against the advice from the other three, downed two shots of Firewhisky before breakfast to, as he put it, ‘evict the hippogriffs stampeding on my frontal lobe’, and Peter thought Remus had taken over as the one worst off from last night. 

Marlene and Tony Lambeth were not at the table, and several people were speculating if this was because they had broken up or because they had made up and were celebrating in bed or possibly outside in the little shed Kettleburn stored some of his more friendly and less smelly animals in (Marlene had let slip that she had shagged in there during the rooftop game and there were plenty of unnecessary and mostly uncharitable comments about Marlene, Tony and a variety of magical creatures that made Peter blush). 

Lily was at the table, and she looked simply stunning today despite the late night. Peter could see James’s eyes glaze over underneath the glasses as he watched her hair fall into her face as she spread orange marmalade onto a dark piece of toast. Peter wondered uncomfortably which Ravenclaw she had a date with. James kept his eyes on her for most of breakfast (no surprise there) and Peter knew that he was wondering who Lily had had sex with. Peter would quite like to know that, too, as a matter of fact. 

The four of them set out to Hogsmeade on the completely legal path, for once. Remus was carrying a battered old rucksack on his back that he had received as a gift from one of his grandfathers. Like most things Remus owned, it was threadbare and quite practical. The boys had made sandwiches with what they had been served for breakfast, which this Sunday had meant scrambled eggs and sausages and fried tomatoes. Peter was quite looking forward to lunch. They were also bringing some rather fancy treacle mead Sirius had somehow managed to persuade the bartender at the Hog’s Head to give him. Peter and James had shared a look at that, and normally James would have teased Sirius by suggesting he had done something sordid on his knees for it. Somehow, with this new thing between Sirius and Remus, it didn’t feel right to joke like that.

Peter had noticed how uncomfortable Remus had become the night before when they had ended up on the roof accompanied by three girls who had all slept with Sirius. Peter didn’t even know if Remus knew about Corintha Shacklebolt, that had been very recent as well. Peter wondered if Sirius and Remus were exclusive, and more than that he wondered exactly how gay the two of them were. It didn’t feel like a sensitive thing to ask outright.

James stopped to say hello both to Madam Rosmerta (who was quite busy and who called both James and Sirius ‘ducks’ and Peter and Remus ‘love’. Peter didn’t know which one ranked higher, but he had a fair idea.) and to an old lady named Lydia Quail who ran an even older curiosity shop, and who apparently knew James’s parents. The Marauders walked past the Hog’s Head, which looked almost as dark and suspect as it did at night, then pushed on past the last houses leading out of the village. The mountains were getting closer and closer, soon they were right there on the other side of some fields. There was just a magical sheep farm from where their progress could be seen, but it was a long way to the side and Peter didn’t feel overly worried that they would get caught. 

They climbed over an old-fashioned turnstile and after that the ground became rockier and rockier and soon they were climbing up a path that looked as though it might have been made by mountain goats. Maybe magical sheep were good climbers. The rock was a dark red and had a sandy consistency, and there was grass growing on some of it to begin with, and plenty of gorse bushes that would be beautiful and yellow in just a few short months. The last of the snow had melted but the earth was still hard and a bit wet. Peter had a feeling that for him and Remus, this would take a good long while.

“Last one up has to shout that they adore Snivellus’s nose from the top!” James shouted, and off he was. Peter sighed and exchanged a look with Remus, who was displaying a fine mixture of indulgence and exasperation. Sirius, who, hungover or not, needed to compete with James at all times, set off after him at the same speed. Now the look on Remus’s face was definitely all indulgence.

“Good with his mouth, eh?” Peter whispered, then covered his mouth with his hand as he was overcome by the giggles.

Remus became impressively red in the face, and he seemed to find it impossible to meet Peter’s eye any longer. 

“Does he make you take it up the arse, too?” Peter asked, trying to stop another hysterical descent into giggles. Remus looked affronted.

“Certainly not,” Remus said. 

“Good. You need to be firm with him,” Peter said, searching his head for the right words, “don’t let him steamroll all over you and just do whatever he wants.”

“It’s not really like… I didn’t even realize you and Prongs knew about this,” Remus muttered and dragged his hand across his face. He probably had a headache too, same as Peter. Perhaps worse than Peter, Moony had both drunk and smoked the most out of all four of them last night. 

“Do you feel alright about it?” Peter asked, delicately skipping over the other thing Remus had said. How could James and Peter have failed to notice this? It might be just as well not to question Remus on that; he thought he had never seen his friend look so lost as he did contemplating whether or not he felt alright.

“Yes,” Moony said finally, but he didn’t sound very certain at all. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he added several seconds later. 

“But you don’t want to stop?” Peter asked, still careful with his words lest Remus clam up completely.

“I can’t stop.”

“Oh,” Peter said, and that was that. That was as much info as Remus would volunteer, and Peter didn’t feel like he was much the wiser after this chat. There was something in Remus’s eyes, though, something –

“It’s rather beautiful up here,” Remus said, making a timid gesture with his hand.

“You’re right,” Peter said while he looked around. They were quite high up even with the speed they were hiking at, and when Peter turned around he could see the fields and the Forbidden Forest and the little old village, wisps of smoke rising from tiny chimneys and the dark figures of a hundred students and plenty of townspeople mingling in the streets, dropping in and out of shops and most all with the Three Broomsticks in mind as their end destination. Still further, majestically placed and with the golden sun captivating it, was Hogwarts. The castle looked like something out of a fairy-tale from this distance, all ancient towers and diamante windows that caught in the sun. The Black Lake was on the side, reflecting even more of the sunlight. 

“There’s an owl, leaving the tower on the left, look! Must be the Owlery.”

“And Hagrid’s out, what is that he’s got on a leash? Surely there’s too many legs, or is it just one head too many?”

“I reckon we could stay here and eat,” Remus said as he turned back to look at the winding path. It was becoming steeper and steeper, and the place they had stopped by had a rocky bit the colour of rust jutting out. It looked like an excellent picnic spot. 

“James and Sirius will be waiting for us further up, though,” Peter said over the rumbling of his stomach. His body did always react strongly whenever food was mentioned. 

“Tough luck, seeing as I’m the one carrying the food.”

“Oh that’s right, I’d forgotten about that,” Peter said happily and led the way onto the tiny plateau. It wasn’t a very windy day and he could tell that they would be just fine here. 

There was the thundering noise of hooves accompanied by snarling and loud panting, and suddenly a massive black dog jumped out onto their plateau, coming to a crashing halt a hair’s width from the edge and sending a cascade of pebbles down the moderately steep mountainside. Peter clasped his heart, too shocked to yell, but of course with Sirius the danger always arrived out of nowhere and was averted at the speed of lightning. 

“You absolute madman!” Remus said, voice quivering oddly, but before he got in any more reprimands Sirius had transformed, along with James who had managed to stop his own equally speedy downhill run as an animal before he hit the edge. Both were, unsurprisingly, laughing, and Remus appeared to bite his tongue and began emptying out the contents of the rucksack instead.

“Hang on.”

Sirius got out his wand and began to wave it around flamboyantly, thick blankets and pillows all in black emerging from the tip of his wand and flumping down on the dark rock. Peter made a pleased noise and sank down onto the growing pile, and James threw himself down almost on top of him and began an unfair wrestling match. James had him pinned down but then he suddenly collapsed himself, giggling hysterically into Peter’s shoulder. Peter turned his head just in time to see Sirius get up from where he had been meticulously wrapping a blanket around Remus’s shoulders. Remus was a delicate shade of fuchsia and looked as if he was contemplating throwing himself off the mountain. Sirius looked completely unrepentant, but then Peter wouldn’t have expected him to look any other way. 

“See anything interesting further up?” Peter asked to try to spare Remus his embarrassment. He kept his head down while Sirius handed out the sandwiches wrapped in paper. Peter almost tore his own into bits in his eagerness to sink his teeth into it. It was dripping with tomato and grease. 

“We found a-”

“Nothing much,” James interrupted. “View is great from up there, though, and I think Prongs likes the grass better up there.”

“You stopped on the top of the mountain to graze?” Remus asked incredulously, and Peter swallowed down the jealousy he felt. James had found something up there together with Sirius, and now they had decided to keep it their own little secret. Peter bet it was a cave, too, maybe one filled with bats or something equally interesting. 

“I got hungry!” James said defensively over a mouthful of sausage and soggy toast. “Let’s have some of that mead, too, I reckon there’s a tap on the side. Ta.”

“Thanks,” Peter said as he accepted his own, hastily conjured mug á la Sirius, brim-full with frothy and sweet-smelling mead.

“You know, the Slytherins have figured out the passageway by Brünhilde,” Sirius said. “I met them on my liquor run yesterday.”

“That’s a bloody shame,” James said with a sigh. “Could’ve been worse, though. That’s not the fastest one by a long shot. Have we even used it since third year?”

“Probably not.”

“Reckon we could hike back up here during the next full moon?”

“That’d be brilliant! Can you imagine it, Moony standing on this little plateau, overlooking the village, moon shining ever so brightly and Moony howling at it.”

“Padfoot could provide backing vocals.”

“The echo would be superb, we’d scare the living daylights out of the townspeople.”

“Listen,” Remus said, “I appreciate what you’ve done, that you go out of your way to… Well. To make things better for me. But I got so scared, a couple of nights ago, thinking about what might’ve happened if I had run off on you, if I'd've escaped I could’ve ended up anywhere, biting-”

“Shut it, you!”

“At night you were thinking this? Where was Sirius, surely he could’ve-”

“James!” Remus yelped, and he actually tried to pull his blanket over his head to hide. Peter laughed and laughed with the others, the echo of it rolling pleasantly down the mountainside.


	48. I'm gonna be your number one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Tide is High" by Blondie.

The climb back down the mountain was a quick affair. James reached the bottom first, just like he had been the first one to reach the top. He and Sirius had found a large cave near the top of the mountain, really it had been almost like a room. They had joked about living there together, if ever they went on the run together, if ever they needed to get away from James’s parents for a week. 

The climb had worked just like James had hoped it would, that is it had taken his mind off Lily and what she was getting up to, not to mention what she had gotten up to in the murky past. Walking back through the village of Hogsmeade unfortunately also brought those thoughts back to him. He wanted to know who she was dating, where they were (please let it not be Madam Puddifoot’s) and he wanted to know who she had made love to. James had always assumed that it would be the two of them, in the end, once she got over her incomprehensible resistance to his charming ways and winning personality. He had never had the urge to pursue anyone else, he really wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to kiss anyone but Lily, let alone other stuff, and it had come as a complete shock that she, apparently, wasn’t the same in this regard. 

“Can you see her anywhere?” he asked out loud and was immediately given a disappointed frown from Remus. 

“I’m going to head up to the castle,” Remus said pointedly. 

James raised a questioning eyebrow at Sirius, who was looking conflicted.

“I’ll come with you, Moony,” Peter interrupted, although he was looking equally as conflicted as Sirius. That settled things, though. James took Sirius’s arm in the crook of his and began to walk. He needed to know, needed to see…

“I’ll go in and check,” Sirius said firmly, and James reluctantly let go of him. Sirius stepped into Madam Puddifoot’s with the swagger of someone who had either a close personal connection with the owner, or someone who made a point of never showing it when he felt uncomfortable. James was fairly certain Sirius ticked the second box.

“Not there,” he said after a swift reappearance, shaking some pink confetti out of his fabulously shiny hair.

“I knew it,” James said proudly. “She’s not that kind of witch, not one for frills and sickly sweet cocoa.”

They walked on to the Three Broomsticks. The cosy, wood encased insides of the pub were toasty from the throng of customers and there seemed to be a charm in place that kept the crackling of the roaring fire in the corner loud enough to be heard even over the cacophony of voices. James spotted her immediately, giving further fuel to the hypothesis Sirius had put forward that James had arrived at Hogwarts fully equipped with Lily-radar. 

The boy she was with was a Ravenclaw, but not one that James had ever spoken to, let alone paid any attention to before just now. He had dark hair and a pleasant-enough face. No glasses, though. James frowned and pushed his own further back on his nose. The pair appeared to be deep in conversation and had several empty pint glasses on their table. It didn’t look overly romantic, but it did look as if they were getting on.

“You have your fill from a safe distance, Potter, because looking’s all you’ll ever get.”

James didn’t jump, but he did immediately reach for his wand. When he turned around, Sirius was already pointing his wand at Snivellus, who was seated alone at the table they had been standing next to. He looked out of place in the warm, friendly room, like a frozen black thing someone had ill-advisedly rescued and brought indoors to thaw out. He was nursing a single pint glass that was almost empty.

James’s wand wavered, unsure on how to proceed. Snivellus was unarmed and they were in public, but then he wasn’t sure if that was enough to stop him. What did stop him, in the end, was the fact that as much as the miserable old bat was trying to appear gleeful at James’s failure, fact remained that Snivellus was not seated over there with Lily. The spite in his eyes was not purely because of James, this time around.

“Stalking your long-suffering friend, Sniv? You’re a real class-act, I can tell,” Sirius said. He was impatiently twirling his wand, and Snivellus’s black eyes flicked between it and Sirius’s face. A new group of young students pushed through the door and James found himself pushed from both sides as they tried to get past him and into the packed pub.

“Not stalking, no. Unlike your minder, over there, Lily actually doesn’t mind having me around.”

“You tag along as the third wheel on all her dates?” James asked after giving Sirius a warning look. His wand was smoking.

Snivellus gave him a sour look and drained the last of his pint.

“Normally I’d recommend you and Evans double date, since she obviously won’t have you, but it strikes me that there is no one from the entirety of the animal kingdom that would agree to a date with your greasy head,” Sirius said haughtily. James could hear him slipping into his posh accent, but it wouldn’t do to call him out on that right now. 

“I, at least, would not stoop to bending over for any old beast,” Snivellus said in an unnervingly triumphant voice. 

“Doubt there are any beasts that’d have you either. You’re so bony you wouldn’t make much of a chewing toy, and that hair of yours is a no-go-zone even for trolls I reckon.”

“Bet you know all about that, though, don’t you, Black?”

Sirius frowned for a fraction of a moment at Snivellus, but then he was his normal, suave self again. 

“Whatever it is you need to think about to maintain a stiffy to keep company with your right hand, Snivellus, is not something I want to hear more about.”

Snivellus blushed and James laughed out loud, although there was something vaguely uncomfortable at the back of his mind, eating away at him. 

“Just you wait,” Snivellus muttered into his empty glass, “just you wait.”

“For what?” Sirius said impatiently. “For you to get reinforcements in the form of your big scary friends who all cast spells about as well as my squib grandmother?”

“Or are you going to follow us around again to try and get us expelled?” James said and feigned a yawn behind his hand. “Because it’s never going to work.”

Snivellus stared intently at him, but there was no comeback. James gave him an arrogant smirk, turned his head to give Lily a final, regretful look, and grabbed hold of Sirius.

“Rosmerta, love, our rendezvous will have to wait for some other time!” Sirius shouted over James’s shoulder as they exited the pub. James thought there was some laughter in reply.

“Your grandmother is never a squib, is she?” James asked and flung his arm over Sirius’s shoulder as they began to walk back.

“Nah, that part was a bit of an exaggeration,” Sirius admitted. 

“Did you get the feeling Snivellus is planning something?”

“Who cares,” Sirius scoffed, “he isn’t half as clever as he thinks he is. Do you reckon Lily knows he’s there, right now, leering over her like an unwanted bat chaperone?”

“No idea,” James said. The mention of Lily sent a wave of melancholia licking back over him. “Do you think she’ll… With the Ravenclaw? And who do you think she’s… I mean, it can’t be Snivellus, obviously, but I didn’t even know she’d been that serious with someone…”

“Surely she’s been on dates before, but that doesn’t mean there was much more to it,” Sirius said placatingly. “Not everyone cares about their first time. Some people just want to get it over with, do it with anyone half decent.”

“Is that what they usually tell you?” James asked, surprising himself with the little mini burst of vitriol that was quite blatant in his voice. Sirius raised a haughty eyebrow at him, and James smiled apologetically. He wasn’t feeling like himself right now and they both knew it.

“Sometimes,” Sirius replied anyway, although James hoped he knew that he didn’t have to answer that. “Not something that usually gets discussed, in my experience, but a couple of times girls have told me that they want to shag me because I’m good-looking and they’d heard from their friend I’m alright and won’t expect them to want to see me again after.”

“That’s so fucked up,” James said quietly. 

Sirius frowned and lit a cigarette, and James coughed pointedly. Sirius purposefully blew smoke into his face. 

“To me it means something,” James said eventually. He wanted to continue but Sirius cut across him immediately.

“Yes, we all know that, Prongs. I’m sure there are people like you out there, but you’ll have to accept that it doesn’t mean the same to everyone, not necessarily anything more than exploring another body and accepting some help in getting off.”

“Fine,” James said unhappily. “The thought of Lily being like that, though…”

“Like what? What would you think of her if she had shagged the same number of people I have?”

James bit his lip before he could blurt something out. It only really boiled down to one thing, didn’t it? His best mate in the world Sirius, Lily the love of his life… 

“I’d think the same of her, of course I would,” James said out loud. He sounded convincing to his own ears, and that was because he believed what he had said, wasn’t it?

Sirius gave him an appraising look but didn’t call him out on it. James still wasn’t convinced there was anything there to call him out on in the first place. Lily was perfect no matter what, and it wasn’t as if she had shagged Snivellus. Nobody in their right mind would ever shag Snivellus. What James had seen of the Ravenclaw she had been sitting with, he had seemed like an alright chap. Nothing special, not funny enough to have her laughing, and certainly not good-looking enough to have her swooning. He had looked kind, however, and that fuelled James’s conviction that whoever she did choose to date (and do other, more intimate things with), would at least be good to her. She’d realize it wasn’t enough for her at some point, and James would be ready for her then.

They were walking up the steps to the front doors of Hogwarts when Sirius made a soft noise in his throat. James looked up and saw that Remus was there, clearly waiting for them. 

“I – Would you come this way?” Remus muttered, freckles almost disappearing underneath his blush. Sirius gave James a parting pat on the shoulder and followed Remus towards the corridor behind the staircase, where all the best broom cupboards were located.

Waiting for Sirius, then. James sighed and began his lonely trek back to the Common Room, where Peter would presumably be waiting for him. It wasn’t quite the same thing. 

One day, James was certain, it would be Lily waiting for him.


	49. You can never know the places that I go, I still like you the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Big God" by Florence + The Machine.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked. He had dragged Remus into Binns’s classroom, which was the only classroom, in Sirius’s experience, that could be relied upon to be empty at all times its professor did not have lessons. It was also the dustiest of all the classrooms, but you couldn’t have it all.

“I need us to talk,” Remus began, and then he stopped. Sirius tried to look into his eyes, but Remus appeared to be too anxious to look anywhere but down. His eyes were gorgeous, Sirius thought, like a landscape of wheat fields with fresh mud and bright blue skies in the distance. Remus drew breath again, and Sirius couldn’t help himself, he had to touch that chest, needed to feel it expand as it kept Remus alive, feel that runaway heartbeat. Remus made a forlorn noise and there were no words at all. 

Sirius did what any good friend would do, or well, maybe not just any friend. He pushed Remus against the teacher’s desk and pulled up his robes, pulled down his worn trousers and pants. Remus fumbled desperately over his hip, the other hand found Sirius’s cheek and then his hair as he knelt down. 

“Let’s get you nice and relaxed,” Sirius told his dick, which was pointing straight at Sirius’s face. How big it was never got old, and Sirius stared at it with the utmost admiration. Remus didn’t appear to be any more relaxed, not even when Sirius soothed his length with his tongue, not even when he sucked it all in. His hand was clasping and unclasping over the rucked-up robes by his hip. Sirius released him reluctantly.

“You know I don’t mind that,” he said and tried to get his hand underneath Remus’s robes and hand, tried to stroke the old scar there to show Remus that he really didn’t think anything of it. Remus shook his head wildly, eyes wide and unhappy, and he wouldn’t let Sirius touch. 

Sirius put his hand on top of Remus’s instead, helping him keep the robes there, helping him cover up. Then he took Remus back into his mouth.

It was over in a couple of minutes as Remus never lasted very long. Sirius found it to be a massive turn on, how they worked together to quickly and efficiently make Remus come. Remus kept his eyes shut while he climaxed, and Sirius looked up in time to watch his face wrinkle in consternation.

“Oh Sirius,” he mumbled, eyes still clenched shut, and Sirius felt very warm all of a sudden as he swallowed and swallowed. Remus’s hands finally relaxed and hung limply by his sides. He gave Remus softening length a kiss goodbye and tucked him back in, pulled the trousers back up, making sure to stroke both hips as he did. He did up the zip and the button, pulled the overlarge robes back down and smoothed out the fabric as best he could. Remus’s eyes blinked open when Sirius stood back up, they were a bit wet now but still just as pretty as before. 

“Feel better?” Sirius asked, although he wasn’t sure if Remus had been feeling down before. He was visibly more relaxed now, though. “Was there anything you wanted?”

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but then whatever determination he had once had seemed to melt away.

“Thank you. That felt nice.”

“Well yeah, that’s sort of the point,” Sirius said with patience he did not possess. Remus winced. 

“We did – _this_ – in Binns’s classroom?” Remus said, and he suddenly sounded scandalized.

“You participated,” Sirius said impatiently. “There’s too many classrooms in this bloody school anyway. About time someone put them to good use.”

“I, really, I just wanted to talk to you,” Remus began.

“So talk,” Sirius said.

“How are you feeling after last night?”

Sirius felt his insides freeze up, but he ruthlessly forced himself to meet Remus’s eyes. 

“Hangover’s mostly gone,” he said evenly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked, and Sirius felt a bit bad when he heard how his good friend’s voice quivered with nerves. 

“How is your mother doing?” Sirius asked pleasantly, because two could play at this game. Remus turned bright red and hugged himself viciously. Sirius sighed and stepped back in and gave Remus a hug, a proper one so that he didn’t have to stand there embracing himself like a kicked puppy. He hoped Remus appreciated it, because Sirius really didn’t like hugging people unless those people were James or Prongs the deer. 

“I’ve got a potion to brew with Prongs, but I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Sirius placed a soft kiss in Remus’s untidy curls and then he left.

The school was mostly empty as it wasn’t dinner time yet and everyone over the age of twelve was in Hogsmeade. Sir Cadogan was on the sprawl, however, and Sirius met him on one of the staircases when he was trying to get to the fourth floor. They had a nice little chat (Sir Cadogan had arranged a playdate for his pony and this was the reason he gave as to why he was lounging about in a large landscape with naked nymphs bathing in a spring together with some unicorns. The unicorns had, apparently, run off when Sir Cadogan appeared on the scene, and his pony was fast asleep in the outskirts of the painting on its own). Sirius thought it helped him get rid of whatever anger mixed with blind panic Remus’s so-called attempt to ‘have a talk’ had left him with. 

“Beautiful women like a man to be both chivalrous and experienced,” Sir Cadogan was explaining amid some expressive gesturing with his arms, but Sirius had to turn around as he heard footsteps.

“Pity how beautiful men don’t like a woman to be chivalrous or experienced,” Marlene stated as she came to a stop beside Sirius. Sirius gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Never you fear, my lady, a real gentleman would never be so ungallant as to notice if his woman was more experienced than he,” Sir Cadogan explained magnanimously. 

Marlene laughed bitterly. Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to think of what to say. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Marlene like this, in fact Marlene was always the one who made the decision to dump whatever man she was with. 

“Tony told me there was no reason to be polite when I broke it off with him,” Marlene said, “because slags have other uses for their mouths than formulating kind words.”

“Do you want me to tell him he can go fuck himself?” Sirius asked, and Sir Cadogan, who was already looking uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking, began to whistle piercingly while he looked to the painted skies above.

“That’s sort of what I did by virtue of breaking up with him.”

“I could beat him up for being a misogynistic knobhead?”

“Big word coming from you, innit? Thanks, but I don’t believe there’s anything that can be solved with violence.”

“I don’t think every woman who has sex is a slag, so don’t turn this around on me,” Sirius said. 

The nymphs in the painting, who were apparently bothered by Sir Cadogan’s whistling, were getting out of the water and sneaking off into the next painting, which appeared to be some sort of Medieval anatomy lesson and featured scary-looking men in wigs cutting open a corpse.

“You’re right,” Marlene said reluctantly. “So, what about it? Care to join me around the corner and make me feel better? Azalea really isn’t wrong about your mouth, you know.”

For one of the first times ever, the compliment did absolutely nothing for his ego. Sirius hesitated, searching for the correct wording to not hurt Marlene’s feelings.

“I’ll return the favour, too, I know how much you like it.”

“It’s not always about that,” Sirius said carefully. “I appreciate the offer, but my mouth’s… All of me is occupied elsewhere at the moment.”

“You’re actually fucking Professor Scarborough, then?” Marlene asked.

Sirius gave her a bewildered look.

“No.”

Marlene stared at him as if she was trying to perform legilimency on him, and Sirius felt quite uncomfortable. 

“Right, whatever you say,” she said finally. “I’ll go find someone else to drown my sorrows in.”

“You do that,” Sirius said. “And don’t listen to that twat, you were way out of his league anyway and you know it.”

“Cheers,” Marlene said with a real smile. “And you,” she said, turning to Sir Cadogan, “you might want to think about being a gentleman and go save those nymphs. The Dutch muggle scientists have caught one and I’ve got a bad feeling they want to see more than just her skin.”

“Gross,” Sirius muttered and continued up the staircase. There were two ripe fairy eggs waiting for him in the dormitory and James reckoned he had found the perfect weight-gain potion for them to attempt. The Slytherins wouldn’t know what hit them come tomorrow.


	50. Dear mother can you hear me whining?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Welcome to Paradise" by Green Day.

“You need any help with that?” Peter asked, and he and Remus smiled at each other as they both realized how rare it was that this sentence was spoken by Peter and not by Remus. Remus had an empty parchment scroll in front of him, and a white sheet Peter recognized as muggle paper. There was a quill and a muggle pen, too, and Remus had been staring at the assortment in front of him for at least half an hour while he gnawed away at his nails, and, once they had been successfully devoured, his fingertips. 

Peter had not seen Remus bite his nails since the days after they had first told Remus that they knew he was a werewolf. Moony had been convinced that they would no longer want his company once they knew about him, or maybe he thought that they would reveal it to the whole school for a laugh. He had eventually stopped devouring his fingers, but it had taken the other three Marauders some time to set him straight.

“If you were worried about myself and Prongs finding out about what way you lean,” Peter began, feeling like he was phrasing this in an impressively grown-up way, “then you have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think Prongs sees it as a bit of a relief, because that means he won’t have to worry about you and Lily getting closer. And as for me, well, similarly…” 

Here Peter paused, feeling rather as if his mouth had run away with him. Could Remus be trusted with the knowledge of Pippa’s exitance?

Remus looked around worriedly; they were seated at a table in the library, and there was no one else in sight.

“I’m not actually gay, I don’t think,” Remus began awkwardly, and then he stopped speaking.

Peter raised an amused eyebrow.

“Whatever you say, Moony. Just don’t beat yourself up about it, not for our sake anyway.”

“Fine, I won’t,” Remus said exasperatedly and continued chewing on his already bleeding left index finger. 

“Stop that,” Peter said, and Remus guiltily put both hands on the table. “Are you writing home?”

“Yeah. My Mum, you know…” Remus’s voice broke and Peter wished there was something he could say to make it better.

“The muggle healers haven’t come up with any new treatments, then?” he asked, trying to sound more knowledgeable than he was. Remus never wanted to talk about it, he just kept using the word ‘terminal’, which Peter found difficult to reconcile with the vibrant happy woman with Remus’s hair and eyes and face whom he had met several times in King’s Cross.

“No. Dunno if I should write and tell her about… Well. I don’t know what I’m doing, what Sirius is doing, but somehow it feels like I should tell her about everything that’s going on in my life while I still can, you know?”

Peter nodded sadly. He was well acquainted with the need to tell his mother about things that went on in his life, even though he thought that Remus’s need was coming from a completely different place than his own. This wasn’t a subject he could have brought up with his mother, but he had a feeling that Remus’s mother was a completely different type of person. She might have sage advice to give, or find it funny. Even approve of it. 

“I just don’t know what to write,” Remus continued, and he rubbed his hands together viciously, presumably to keep them away from his teeth. “To put it bluntly, it’s just sex, and no mother wants to read about that.”

“Is it just sex?” Peter couldn’t help but ask, and he was awarded with a violent blush that covered Remus’s face and disappeared down his neck and into his shabby robes. 

“She knows I like girls, as well, so it’ll just be confusing if I write who it’s with,” Remus continued, and Peter raised a sceptical eyebrow that was ignored. 

“I dunno, mate,” Peter said when the silence dragged on. “I just came here to ask if you wanted my help with that history of magic essay, I didn’t realize I’d have to talk you through all of these deep philosophical questions…”

They both cracked up at that.

“Look, there’s Mary,” Peter said. Mary Macdonald was alone again, and this made Peter more worried than he’d like to admit. Mary had snubbed him the last time they had spoken, there was no other way of looking at it, but the more Peter thought about it the better he thought he could understand how she must be feeling. Not about the whole Mulciber situation, of course, Peter knew nothing about that sort of thing, but he did know what it was like to walk the school alone when your best friends were busy. Best friend in the singular with Mary, Peter supposed. He gave her a timid wave, and she stopped in her tracks, reluctantly looking between Peter and Remus and the empty table in the corner furthest away from them. 

“There you are, Mary!”

It was Dorcas Meadows, a short, kind-faced Hufflepuff girl who seemed to be friends with most everyone in the school. She stopped by Mary’s side and then must have caught Peter and Remus staring at her, because she blushed and gave them a thankful smile, as if she had somehow known that Peter had done something kind. Peter pushed his chest out importantly and smiled back. Remus had gone back to chewing on his nails, and as soon as Peter noticed, he slapped Moony’s hand away.

“No mutilating yourself,” he reprimanded, and then he looked up again to see if the girls were about to come and join them. 

“It wasn’t us, I promise it wasn’t us!”

James and Sirius came running towards them, shouting and laughing wildly, and James was stowing the blank Marauder’s Map out of sight. Hot on their heels was Madam Pince, the infamously bad-tempered librarian, who possessed the kind of face that was impossible to tell her age from. She could have been anywhere from her mid-twenties to her sixties, normally, but today she just looked fat. Peter did a double take at the same time as James and Sirius both lounged for the perceived safety of their table. Madam Pince was several stones fatter than she had been when Peter had last seen her, her normally thin countenance downright corpulent. 

“Lads,” James said casually between heavy panting, he appeared to have run for several miles to get here.

“Your hands, Moony, what are you doing?”

Sirius sounded affronted, as if he had just been personally offended. Remus looked mulishly at the table and hid his hands in his pockets.

Peter looked from them to the furious librarian to the girls in the background. Mary had crossed her arms over her chest and looked disapproving. Dorcas was giggling hard behind her hands.

“Put me right, this second!” Madam Pince demanded shrilly, feet thumping heavily as she came to a halt by their table. Sirius was leaning on his arms over the table, mouth twitching, and James looked equally unrepentant as he eyed their librarian.

“Not sure what you mean, Madam. I will say that I think you look extra stunning today. Have you done something with your hair?”

“You boys will serve detention with me, starting right now! I want every single shelf dusted. Don’t care how long it takes, you will clean my whole library, and you can think about what you’ve done in the meantime.”

“Me and Remus didn’t do anything,” Peter squeaked, and Sirius immediately stopped smirking and mimed the word ‘rat’ at him. 

“That’s true, actually,” Remus said, and he was putting on his mature voice and looking steadily into Madam Pince’s eyes. “I’m a Prefect, you know, so of course I would never do anything as childish and ungallant as this. And I can vouch for Peter, here.”

“Traitor!” Sirius and James hissed in chorus, and Peter could hear Dorcas still giggling as she and Mary listened in.

“Leave my library at once!” Madam Pince commanded. “Not you!” she continued, as Sirius and James also made to get up from the table. “I want everybody but you two out! You’re going to dust the shelves for me while I go to the Hospital Wing. I’m locking you in here, and the library won’t open again until I’m content with your work.” 

Peter and Remus were almost out of the library before Madam Pince had topped talking, and Mary and Dorcas were following them. 

“That was close,” Remus muttered as he stowed away his writing materials into his bag while they walked.

“Good one, Remus, ta,” Peter said.

“I wasn’t going to burn for the disastrous result of a potion, I have enough of that during lessons,” Remus explained with a dry smile. 

“How often do they do things like this?” Dorcas asked curiously from behind them. “I’m Dorcas, by the way, dunno if we’ve ever talked before.”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Peter said proudly and shook her hand, just as a crying student ran past them, so fat her robes looked as if they were about to split down the seam. 

“They’ve certainly been busy today, it seems,” Remus said and his smile was a reluctant one. Dorcas appeared to find it hilarious, however, and Peter was happy to laugh along with her.

“They come up with things like this all the time,” he explained eagerly to her and he ignored the vexed sigh that came from Mary. “Never a dull minute. We usually all participate.” Peter felt it was important to let Dorcas know that he was very much part of the group.

“Not the Prefect, though, surely?” she asked and winked at Remus. 

“I wasn’t joking about being rubbish at potions,” Remus said, but he did give her a mischievous smile. “Guess this means we have the evening to ourselves though, eh Peter?” 

“We could go to the kitchens?” Peter suggested hopefully and he glanced at the girls to see if they would be impressed that he knew where the kitchens were and how to get in.

“Really? Can you show us where they are?” Dorcas asked immediately. “Is it true they’re completely run by house elves?”

“Yep,” Peter began, but Remus cut across him.

“I better go finish the history essay, seeing as I’ll no doubt be busy once Sirius returns. I mean, ah…”

Remus became bright red in the face and Peter did feel a bit flustered, too. Too much information, much?

“I could show you?” he said to Dorcas instead, but Mary made a disapproving noise and Dorcas looked torn as she looked from Remus to Mary and finally to Peter. 

“Rain check?” she asked apologetically, and Peter waved magnanimously with his arms like he had seen James do. He hit Remus in the chest by mistake.

“Sure thing,” he said quickly, and he could hear Remus laugh under his breath as he dragged Peter away with him to the Common Room.


	51. To absolutely drive you wild, she's all out to get you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Killer Queen" by Queen.

“How were the mountains?” Lily asked as they patrolled yet another dark and cold corridor.

“Never said we went,” Remus replied, but his grin was probably an admission in itelf. “How was your date?”

“It was nice enough. Might go again if he asks. Not many sparks flying, if I’m honest, but maybe that comes with time?”

“Maybe,” Remus said doubtfully. Lily maybe did have a point, he thought, seeing as he had definitely known Sirius for years and never felt anything. Once they had kissed, though… Remus felt that familiar blush creeping over his cheeks, and Lily was watching him with a teasingly raised eyebrow.

“How are things with your sister?” Remus asked, because he could sense a question on the tip of Lily’s tongue, and he would have no way of replying to it with anything but more blood boiling underneath the surface of his freckle-plagued skin. 

“Petunia?” Lily said with a sniff. “Haven’t heard squat from her since Christmas.”

Remus didn’t know what to say to that, and it must have shown on his face because Lily’s face softened, and she gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“I know I sound like I hate her, but it’s not really like that. I simply wish things were different between us, that things could go back to the way it was before I got my Hogwarts letter.”

“It must have changed a lot for you and your family,” Remus said.

“It did. I mean, I knew I was a witch before I got the letter, of course, but still.”

“You did?” Remus asked curiously.

“Yeah. Severus told me.”

“Oh,” Remus said, once again at a loss about what to say next. 

“He lives in the same town as me, and it’s not a magical town by any means. Just me, and Sev and his mother. He’d seen me do magic in the playground, recognized me for what I was immediately. So I had years to prepare for what was to happen. I never told my parents, not until Professor McGonagall arrived to explain it to them, but I don’t think they were that shocked in the end. About Hogwarts's existence, maybe, but not about me having magic. Petunia took it badly all the same, even when I had long since confided in her. Sev had shown her magic when we were children, and of course she had seen me do silly little things. Think she thought it was all a trick, that Severus and I had been making it up all along.”

Lily drew a deep breath, but not before a few more words escaped her.

“She’s never forgiven me.”

Remus licked his lips nervously. As fascinated as he was, as much as he wanted to ask for more details about Lily’s childhood, about her friendship with Snape, about what her parents thought about all of this, he told himself that had he been in her situation he would not have wished for anyone to pry. Despite how open Lily was about herself, he thought she might be rather private when it came to things that concerned others, things that concerned her family and close friends. 

“My mother’s a muggle,” he said instead, voice lowering an octave out of habit. His father always did that, got quiet whenever he was asked about his wife, presumably out of fear of being discriminated against. Remus realized to his chagrin that it wasn’t a very nice habit at all, indeed it sounded almost as if he was ashamed of Hope, and he wished he could take it back, say the sentence out loud again with a different intonation. 

“Is she Welsh like you?” Lily asked brightly, apparently oblivious to his inner turmoil. Then again, oblivious was not a word that could ever be used to describe Lily Evans. Remus gave her a shrewd look, and she flashed him a disarming smile in return.

“Born and bred. I spent most of my time with her before I came here, so I’m well-versed in all things muggle.”

“How soon did your parents know you were a wizard? I’ve been told most children born to mixed parents turn out magical, but it seems to be more three quarters than a completely given outcome.”

Remus schooled his features to be mild and friendly, all the while panic licked up and down his insides. He had shown his magic at exactly five years old, when he, against some very slim odds, survived the damage caused by a murderous and highly magical beast. Most wizards and witches would have died, and all muggles would have. His parents had known for sure after that, all right.

“I made the window in my room open to let the sun in when I was quite little,” he said evenly. “Apparently I was a big fan of fresh air.”

Lily’s laughter sounded delighted and Remus took the break to pull himself back together.

“Look at that, what do you reckon that is?”

Lily had stopped laughing and was pointing at something pink and frothy that was trailing like cute fungi along the floor, occasionally flicking upwards and releasing large, heart-shaped bubbles into the air. Soap bubbles.

“We’re on the fifth floor,” Lily said quietly, voice laced with despair, “Remus, please tell me you didn’t?”

“What?” Remus said innocently, and he thought he did a good job of managing to look like he had no idea what she was talking about. 

They reached the door soon enough and Lily flung it open with some force.

“No!” she shouted over the laughter, “No! You’re not supposed to be in here, this bathroom is for prefects only!”

“Lily, my dearest! And Moony, what a delightful surprise!”

Remus hid his mouth behind his hand, but he was laughing so hard the others could probably tell, anyway. Sirius and James were both naked, as far as he could tell, but fortunately mostly immersed in some glittery pink water. The Prefect’s Bathroom smelled so strongly of raspberries it might as well had been just raspberry juice the pair were marinating in, but the bubbles in the room told a different story. And great Merlin, were there bubbles. They were gloriously pink and sparkly and seemed to move with a lot more sentience than normal bubbles did, taking shape into different things (currently octopuses). There were so many of them that Remus could barely see his two fellow Marauders, and the glittery octopuses filled the room from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. As he watched and tried to quench his laughter, Lily stuck a finger out to pop the nearest octopus, which was waving a tentacle lazily at her. Just as her finger got to it, every single one changed shape, completely in unison.

“You shrivelled-up big-headed pair of pricks!” Lily roared, which was rather apt, Remus had to admit, even as he doubled over with hysterical giggles. He could see now that Sirius was holding his wand (the thin, wooden one with a core of dragon heartstring, Remus thought quickly, not the other one), which would explain the nature of the bubbles in question, because they certainly didn’t come out like that from the taps, nor did they normally come in the quantities Remus was currently seeing.

“OUT OUT OUT!” Lily shouted, suddenly pulling out her own wand and brandishing it in front of her like a sword. She drew breath and then there was a series of artful and precise flicks from her wand, which turned every single red bubble into sheer, no longer weightless, ice.

“Ouch!”

“So fucking cold, Evans!”

Remus continued laughing even as the bubbles smashed over his head. They were made from the thinnest of ice shells, so it didn’t really hurt, but it did cover him in an overpowering smell of ripe raspberries. 

“You’re disgusting!” Lily groaned, turning away from the tub. Sirius was in the process of climbing out of it, and Remus wished he had had the willpower to look away. He did not, or not until James, too, was getting out, anyway. Both were shivering as they pulled their clothes back on, not even bothering to towel off. Remus was beginning to tremble from the cold as well, it must be several degrees below zero by now. Lily really knew her wandwork. 

“They used the fizzy raspberry lotion,” Lily told him despairingly, back firmly to the two boys getting dressed. “I just knew that they had to ruin that for me if they ever got in here.”

“Watch out Moony!” James suddenly shouted, and Remus stumbled and almost slipped on the now icy floor, hands flailing uselessly around.

“Aww he’s too easy, really,” Sirius’s voice said from the other side, and then Remus’s neck was assaulted. Sirius had apparently taken a fistful of the frozen raspberry soap and was now happily depositing it underneath Remus’s robes.

He swore and shouted and swore some more, and the next thing he knew Lily had wrestled Sirius to the floor and was sitting astride his chest and mashing rapidly melting raspberry slush into his face and hair. Sirius appeared to be too shocked to do much more than to spit out soap and wriggle feebly, and James was standing next to them with his mouth gaping and a complex mixture of awe and jealousy in his face. Remus smiled a little to himself, realizing that in a twisted way Sirius was probably living out James’s fantasy right now. 

“Miserable fucking gobshites,” Lily said finally and got up from Sirius. Remus turned his head to the side and watched the bright, molten soap dripping off Sirius’s face. He was groaning dramatically a he got up from the floor. 

“Would you… Would you do that for me, too, sometime?” James asked hopefully.

“OUT!” Lily roared in his face, and at that James and Sirius finally backed off. Remus was laughing again long before the door slammed shut behind their backs. 

“How do we clean this?” he asked once he had regained some of his cool. Lily was standing quite still next to him, looking almost mournful. Her breath came out in white puffs of condensation because of the cold.

“Evanesco!” she said, loud and clear, and the place was suddenly spotlessly white again. The smell of raspberries lingered, however. 

“I’ll never be able to enjoy that soap again,” Lily said unhappily. “Now every time I smell my favourite berry I will think about Black’s and Potter’s naked backsides. Actually, Black didn’t even have the decency to turn his back when he got out. Does he really have no shame at all?”

“None whatsoever,” Remus assured her, although he refrained from saying that he was rather glad that he too, from now on, would always associate the smell of raspberries with a naked Sirius. 

“Boys get all small and shrunken from the cold as well,” Lily continued and scrunched her nose. Remus reddened and let a nervous little laugh escape. 

“This all begs to question,” Lily continued, suddenly so stern Remus almost thought she had transformed into Professor McGonagall, “how in Merlin’s name did they know the password?”

“Umm,” Remus said, reaching around for a passable lie, “maybe they guessed it?”

Lily raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and Remus floundered some more.

“Could have overheard it, I suppose?” he said, although it came out as a question rather than as a statement.

“Nah,” Lily said with an unhappy sigh. “This means Black is shagging a Prefect.”

“Ah,” Remus said.

“Oh yes.” Lily gave him a sharp look. “You know him better than I do, of course, but I think everyone knows him well enough to know that he’d whore himself out for less than the password to the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

Remus didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and so he compromised by blushing, deeply and thoroughly. The redness probably went all the way down to his belly. 

“I’ll have to bring it up at the next Prefect’s meeting, although the damage is obviously already done. Could maybe go to McGonagall and ask if she could change the password. It really won’t do, if Black and Potter can get in here. Who knows what they’ll do next time? Maybe shag someone in here or... I don’t know, throw a pool party for the Giant Squid.”

“As a matter of fact,” Remus began, but then he bit his tongue as he thought better of it. 

“I’ll talk to McGonagall,” Lily decided out loud, and she was looking decidedly happier now. “I forgot to give them detention, but she can rectify that, too.”

Remus mumbled something vaguely affirmative. He somehow wasn’t as keen on getting Sirius detention now that it meant keeping him away from Remus’s bed. Usually he would have thought it only right, but now… What was the world coming to?

“Why on earth were they bathing in the nude together, anyway?” Lily suddenly asked, turning sharply to stare at Remus. Remus blushed some more, although he really wasn’t sure why, this time around. “What sort of pervy things do those two get up to, anyway? Actually, never mind that, I don’t think I fancy knowing.”

Remus nodded sagely and they continued walking. Occasionally, they saw escaped pink bubbles floating around the empty corridors. They were still shaped like penises.


	52. It always leads me here, lead me to you door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Long and Winding Road" by The Beatles.

James’s mum had sent him a large package with homemade treacle tart, homemade fudge, and two moneybags filled with galleons. One for James and one for Sirius. Sirius had found it visibly difficult to accept his share, but James had teased him about it until he did. It was the only way to do it with someone as arrogant as Sirius, James told himself, and in the end, Sirius had muttered something about knowing just what he needed to spend it on. 

James had been at the first quidditch practice since the game against Ravenclaw. They were playing Hufflepuff next, and it was looking increasingly likely that Gryffindor would win the cup. Practice was always at its least inspiring just after a big game, when they still had weeks or even months until the next one, but James truly loved flying and he got on well with his teammates, Aisling and Amanda in particular. They were both sixth years and always teased him for being younger, but they shared his sense of humour and there was always plenty of practical jokes at practice when they didn’t need to take it dead-seriously. Today, James had made Aisling’s trainers tie themselves together while she was flying, but she had gotten him back good with a well-placed tickling spell. It had resulted in him being half-hard for the last half hour of practice, and even after a successful counter-curse he could still feel a disconcertingly nice tingling sensation from somewhere behind his testicles.

He’d always gotten on well with Tony Lambeth, too, but Sirius had decided to hate him after something he had apparently said to Marlene, and Sirius almost never had to do anything without James’s willing participation. This time, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He loved Marlene dearly, everybody did, really, but in a twisted way he thought he could see where Tony was coming from. Despite what he had told Sirius, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Lily sleeping with people in the past that weren’t him. He could see why Tony was upset with Marlene’s past, especially sine she wasn’t the type that kept quiet about that sort of thing. No, she wore each notch on her bedpost like a badge of honour. 

“Still here, James? Felix left already, and I need to lock up the changing rooms.”

“I’ll be right out,” James promised and he put a move on, stuffing his dirty training clothes into a bag and pulling his favourite Puddlemere United jumper over his head to combat the raw and wet air outside. March was closing in on them, but the weather didn’t seem to have realized that it would be spring soon.

“Why does your shirt say-” Tony began as they fell into step, walking back towards the castle. “Never mind. What I meant to ask is you’re friends with Black, aren’t you?”

“And the sky is grey,” James said agreeably. Tony frowned and James wondered privately if his captain was going to continue to state the obvious all the way up to the castle.

“I want you to tell him to stay away from Marlene,” Tony said, and James paused in his tracks so that Tony had to spin around to continue the chat. 

“I’m serious,” Tony said, and James refrained from making any of the obvious puns, “she’s a good girl and she doesn’t deserve someone like Black leading her astray and ruining her reputation.”

“You believe Sirius is ruining Marlene’s reputation?” James asked angrily. “What do you have to do with either of them, anyway? Marlene’s single again, isn’t she? Dumped you, if I understood it correctly.”

That one appeared to hurt. Tony made a face that was nothing short of ugly, and his look when it met James’s was disappointed.

“I was unfair to her, said some things I regret. But I plan to ask her out again, make it up to her, and when I do your mate Black needs to back off.”

“They’re friends,” James said with a nonchalant shrug, “and I will tell him no such thing.”

“Wouldn’t have thought people like him have friends,” Tony said coldly, “as he comes from a family of snakes. Charms people to get what he wants from them, sucks them dry and discards what’s left. I definitely don’t want Marlene to hang out with someone like that.”

It took all of James’s self-restraint not to hit his much larger seventh-year quidditch captain in the face. And he wasn’t even much of a fighter, not unless he had to jump in after Sirius. 

“I’ll tell Marlene what you said,” he said instead, cold triumph behind every word. “See you at practice.”

With that he walked around Tony and hastened his steps to get ahead. He found that he was literally shaking with rage, he genuinely felt as if he had just heard the worst blasphemy ever to be uttered in the history of mankind. Whatever sympathy he had once felt for Tony had flown right off the Astronomy Tower and been replaced by a horrible sense of guilt. He wasn’t like Tony, surely? If he’d had Lily, even as much as been her friend, surely he wouldn’t have had it in him to act like that? To act like he owned her, to act like he had the right to disapprove of her actions?

It was such a foreign feeling, this self-doubt of his, that James almost stepped on one of the trick-steps between the third and fourth floor, but fortunately Sir Cadogan was there and came to the rescue.

“Stop at once, my good sir! I cannot witness as one of my ever-faithful brothers in arms falls into a dangerous trap sprung by the enemy!”

“Cheers,” James hastened to say, and somehow the mere fact that such a funny character as Sir Cadogan existed immediately served to raise James’s spirits.

“What’ve you been up to since we last spoke? And what are you doing here? Do you know those nymphs?”

“Ah,” Sir Cadogan said and scratched his goatee while he sent a guilty look over his shoulder at the naked women splashing about in the water just behind him, “yes… As a matter of fact, I’m here to keep an eye on them. Guard them, if you will, as they go about their business. Doctor Spieler, from the next painting over, has taken an unnatural interest in these fair maidens, and I’ve vowed to stay here to make sure he doesn’t do anything unseemly with them. To them, I should say, he and his fellows of medicine have been looking for something fresh to strap onto their obduction table for years.”

“That sounds well grotty,” James said, paraphrasing a muggle film he had seen with Peter. He couldn’t help but send a curious look at the painting next door, where some men in funny hats were poking with sharp instruments at what was undoubtedly a corpse. 

“Come again?”

“Grotesque,” James amended, “I meant to say that that sounds perfectly horrid and grotesque.”

“That’s exactly it, my good sir,” Sir Cadogan said importantly and pushed his chest out. His armour creaked unhappily.

“But there’s a difference between being a bit protective and between trying to stop someone else from living their life,” James mused out loud. 

“Oh yes,” Sir Cadogan agreed immediately, “the maidens invite the Charming Charlatan from the fifth floor and Rusty the Renegade from the Entrance Hall to come bathe with them all the time, and I would never dream of putting a stop to that. They told me they’re scared of the good Doctor over yonder, and so we agreed that I would stand guard, just in case he tries something.”

“I see,” James said.

“And of course there’s part of me that hopes… Well…” Sir Cadogan squirmed uncomfortably and his armour groaned some more. 

“You hope that one day they might ask you to join them?” James suggested, trying to sound kind rather than teasing. In a way this hit too close to home, in another way this was bloody hilarious. 

“As you say, my good sir, as you say,” Sir Cadogan mumbled. 

“I better get going, now,” James said, “but it was great talking to you.”

“’Till we meet again!” 

James almost skipped up the rest of the stairs, jumped up three at a time when he remembered another trick step. He blew a raspberry when he encountered Peeves (Peeves blew one right back) and it was only when he was within earshot of the Fat Lady that he remembered his conversation with Tony. 

There was the noise of raised voices, the Fat Lady wailing, and then a resounding crack that James unfortunately recognized immediately. He rounded the corner and almost ran into Tony Lambeth, Gryffindor’s much admired quidditch captain. His face was a mess of green snot and blood, and rather than growl he actually whimpered as he side-stepped James. 

“Nice hex!” James said as he caught up with Marlene, who appeared to be trying to calm down the Fat Lady. Marlene was holding her wand in one hand, the other had split open spectacularly over her knuckles.

“He had it coming,” Marlene said, and she already sounded more smug than angry. “Any idea how to fix this?” she continued and pointed with her wand to her bleeding knuckles.

“Oh yeah, Sirius used to go around punching people a lot. Had to learn that one a long time ago,” James said and dug out his own wand to heal Marlene’s knuckles.

“Cheers. Want me to fix the slogan on your shirt?”

“What now?” James asked and looked down. His shirt said ‘Pudding Unites Us’, which was far from the worst thing Sirius had hexed his Puddlemere merchandise to read. “Bloody Sirius,” he muttered anyway, although the part of him that was always peckish after practice sort of agreed with Sirius’s version.

Marlene hummed thoughtfully and waved her wand to restore James’s shirt.

“Black can be a right little bastard sometimes, but I think I’ll take someone with his worldview any day over that flobberworm I’ve just had to take down a peg,” Marlene said. 

“You know, I quite agree,” James said, and gave her a broad smile. This time he meant it.


	53. Another love I would abuse, no circumstances could excuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Every You Every Me" by Placebo.

Fortunately, Remus had stopped trying to ‘talk about it’. This meant that Sirius had been able to let go and focus on the job at hand. He had spent a glorious hour or two every night in his mate’s bed and he was finally getting the hang of giving head. Sirius was used to being top of the class on his first attempt, but this was something he’d had to practice to become good at. Having said that, he did reckon he’d started out top of the class with Remus too, it wasn’t as if anyone else was climbing into Remus’s bed at night and freeing his massive prick from his pants and sucking it dry. It was comforting to know that it was just the two of them, in stasis from one night to the next, when Sirius could simply pick up where he had left off. 

He got to the main event with more and more detours each night as Remus expanded outwards like a supernova of skin and muscle and fat and bone. Sirius was discovering each little nook and cranny of Remus’s body, using eager eyes and comforting fingers and an exploratory tongue. He whispered into every brittle bone and every jumpy muscle and every luxurious pocket of fat, telling it how good it looked, how sweet it tasted, how beautiful it was. Remus needed to hear that, Sirius thought, but he was yet to find a way to make him listen.

He discovered new smatterings of freckles every night, they seemed to pop up in all likely and especially in all unlikely places, and it was as if they were multiplying each night, leaving Sirius with the distinct notion that there were plenty more to discover. Remus’s skin tasted fantastic, and Sirius was oh so careful with it, night after night. The manner in which he’d sometimes bitten and sucked his presence into former shags somehow felt wrong to even open up as a possibility to Remus. Remus was too dear when he laid underneath Sirius, too filled with sharp angles and birthmarks and the occasional scar. It was an altar to pray at, not one to sacrifice on. There was nothing higher than Remus’s body in Sirius’s life right then and some nights, just as Remus climaxed, Sirius thought he may have found god. 

Admittedly Sirius had vomited into his own mouth a couple of times when he’d taken Remus too deep. He didn’t think Remus had noticed, and as funny as it was there was still something so reverent about what Remus was letting him do that Sirius didn’t want to cut across it with his own crass sense of humour. He hadn’t minded much, anyway, he had swallowed it back down with everything else. Remus was a learning opportunity, and Sirius wanted to master deepthroating like he mastered everything else he took an interest in. This wasn’t the only reason he was sleeping with Remus, but for the life of him he couldn’t translate the other reasons into words. He was drawn to his friend, night after night, and fortunately Remus was eager to go every time.

Sirius had begun by cradling Remus’s balls tonight, he almost thought he could feel them fill up in his hands. His mouth was dealing long, doggy licks all over the heavy, bloated length of cock stretching over Remus’s belly. He loved the sound of the weighty breathing, the rise of Remus’s skinny chest, the hitch and the stutter when Sirius’s tongue trailed around his oversensitive glans, the way Remus had to get up on his elbows to watch when Sirius lifted the erection from its recline to get it into his mouth. He could feel fresh precum on his tongue within seconds and it was coinciding with Remus licking his lips in encouragement, desperately lustful eyes meeting Sirius’s. He kept eye contact as he slowly eased the whole prick into his mouth and his throat. He was learning that if he did it ever so slowly and swallowed at increasing intervals, he could just about manage the whole thing. Remus bit his lip, hard, and Sirius lost eye-contact as his lips and nose nestled into the soft brown curls in Remus’s groin. His throat was spasming sporadically and his jaw ached, and he loved it. 

He’d long since discovered he had a preference for oral sex and it made sense that he’d love giving it to boys, too. Men. The length was humongous, and Sirius began bobbing over it, gagging every time it slipped back down but keeping enough control over the proceedings not to embarrass himself. Remus was panting and trying to keep from writhing, small even thrusts escaping to be felt in Sirius’s mouth, hands visibly clenching and unclenching in the sheets at his sides. Sirius hummed with praise, savouring the fullness and bringing his hand up to help. It circled around the thick base of Remus’s erection, grasping foreskin and moving easily in sync with Sirius’s head on a length that was dripping with thick spittle from the back of Sirius’s throat. The noise of wet friction combined with his gagging and Remus’s moans was nothing short of obscene and Sirius was pleased and a little bit proud. His other hand kept the snug grip on Remus’s bollocks. They were warm and throbbing and eventually he could feel them tighten in his hand.

Sirius purred with approval, drawing out until the tip was the only thing left in his mouth, and rubbed the rest with sure strokes of his hand. His mouth filled quickly with runny and warm come and Remus kept his face hidden in his hands as he climaxed, hips jerking arrhythmically from the loss of control. Sirius pulled off, cheeks bulging, then let it all pour out over Remus’s spent prick. He spat once more for good measure, right on the frenulum, and the whole length twitched and spurted again, leaving it utterly drained. It looked too filthy for words, especially when Sirius aligned his own rock-hard prick with the mess he’d made. He laid down with a happy sigh on top of Remus, trying not to thrust too hard into Remus’s groin. He must feel tender. Sirius loved the feeling of the warm and sticky and illicit lubrication, Remus’s coarse and curly pubes and the mostly soft prick that met him when he ground his erection against Remus.

Remus was looking at him again, they were nose to nose now and there were so many different expressions mingling, more than Sirius thought he could readily identify. There was exhaustion and embarrassment and distaste and bliss. But Remus was still horny too, Sirius could tell, and he was realigning them just a little to get a better angle to thrust back into Sirius. It was painful when their hipbones clashed, but Sirius could feel Remus’s monumental member stirring and filling and taking as much of the non-existent space between them it could get and that felt so very sexy. Remus had one hand on his back, timidly mapping muscles and shoulder blades, and one resting on the swell of his arse. He was moving his mouth to Sirius’s even though he had made it clear that he didn’t really appreciate the taste of spunk. There would be a lot of it there now.

Sirius descended on Remus’s mouth, opening them both carnally and impractically wide as his hips thrust and thrust, Remus’s hands enticing weights on him. Remus had bitten his own lip, and on tasting a hint of iron Sirius wanted to chastise him for hurting himself, for not being more careful. He kneaded Remus’s chest, feeling up his hard nipples. They felt like rubber and Sirius had to stop himself from pinching and tweaking. Remus was too precious, he needed to be so very gentle. He could feel Remus’s heartbeat, strong and present, and that’s what did it. His hand was cupped over that invaluable rhythmic thumping, he was kissing Remus’s open mouth with slow-moving and supple lips, tongues stroking in sync, and they both moaned as Sirius ground down and spurted between them. 

They continued moving, but it became gentler as Sirius came down from his high. They snogged some more, and Remus was stroking him over his hair, other hand still on his arse. It felt more than alright. 

“M all sticky,” Remus muttered finally, hiding his sweet and flushed face from Sirius. Sirius grinned, he had gotten his breath back and it was easy to tell that Remus was hard still. 

“Yeah, that’s the hazard of having sex,” Sirius told him, but that wasn’t quite right somehow. Sex was a laugh, wasn’t it? What was the real hazard here?

He got up and the separation of their bodies made a gross, wet noise. He got down between Remus’s legs again, and Remus got back onto his elbows looking like a general surveying the damage on a battlefield. There was a film of sweat and sticky white smears everywhere.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m a dog, remember?”

Sirius lapped up as much as he felt like, strong bitter flavour on his tongue, then he slipped Remus back into his mouth. He used his hand again as he bobbed up and down, that technique seemed to work a treat and it let his throat rest. Remus wasn’t holding back this time and very soon he was grunting his release and shooting over Sirius’s waiting tongue. It wasn’t much this time, but that was perhaps just as well.

Sirius continued kissing and nosing around Remus’s groin, soft lips and tiny kitten licks while his own belly felt oddly heavy. It wasn’t as if he’d just had a substantial meal or anything, but there was something filling him up. He had gotten hold of Remus’s hand and he held it while he nuzzled on Remus’s flaccid dick and at the silken insides of his thighs. Remus stroked his hand with his thumb. He knew he should stop, but it felt like an easier option to stay where he was. He didn’t need more sex, but he didn’t want to leave, either. He didn’t know what he wanted, and he especially did not wish to talk about it. Remus felt so good, smelt so good, even covered in sweat and spunk and spit.

He moved his head so that his ear was on Remus’s stomach. There were funny and comforting noises coming from inside, just audible over their combined breathing. Sirius thought Remus might be asleep. They were still holding hands and Sirius was stroking Remus’s spent prick and balls with his other hand. Not that spent, as it turned out, Sirius could feel Remus stirring under his gentle caresses. Had it been anyone else Sirius would have been envious of Remus’s ability to get hard again and again with barely any refractory period. But as it was Remus, Sirius found he didn’t mind. Remus was allowed everything good. He opened his mouth welcomingly and slid the wet tip inside yet again. He didn’t even have to move his head. His hand stroked slowly and comfortingly over the rest of the length. Remus mumbled something sleepily, but Sirius couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. Then Remus’s free hand found Sirius’s head and Sirius sighed happily as long clever fingers mapped out his face, stroked the hair out of his eyes and traced how his lips stretched around Remus’s dick. 

They stayed there for a long time, neither speaking, and Sirius felt so very at home.


	54. I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Mr Brightside" by The Killers.

Remus was enjoying the blessed privacy of his own table in the Common Room. He had a Defence essay to write and as it was his favourite subject, he wanted it to be good. The hour of solitude he had gotten so far was a rarity; the other Marauders were never far away and with them he was almost never allowed to do his homework. Just before a deadline Peter, too, would become studious and then Remus was expected to spend almost as much time on Peter’s work as on his own. He also had a breather from the Marauders during Divination. The lessons were horrible, in particular as Professor Glass kept seeing several children (impossible) and a long and happy marriage (unlikely) in his future, and Remus couldn’t wait until he would be able to drop Divination come sixth year. He had signed up to take the blasted class completely by accident and had regretted his foolishness ever since. He had been too scared to tell the Divination Professor or even Professor McGonagall that he had made a mistake, and could he please study something worthwhile instead. His friends would never have let him live it down if they found out that he hadn’t signed up for Divination on purpose, let alone that he hadn’t had the courage to speak up once he’d realized his mistake, and so he had let them think that he chose to study it because it gave him time off from the Marauders. They had accepted this straight away, and Remus supposed it _was_ nice to get some time to himself. On the other hand, he did think that any chance he might once have had at a bright future had been jinxed by the way Professor Glass kept foreseeing it in spades for him.

There were loud steps coming his way now and Remus froze. It was Sirius, and he flung himself into the chair next to him with a loud burp. Remus made a face at him, which was ignored.

“I’ve found a good healing spell for fingers,” Sirius told him, and there was something reproachful in both his voice and his eyes. Remus tried to become one with the chair, but when that didn’t work, he reluctantly pulled forth his hands from where he had been trying to hide them. Sirius looked as if the sight of Remus’s fingers gave him physical pain.

“Sanacute!” He flicked his wand with his usual casual grace and Remus felt as if his fingers had been plunged into something warm and slimy. The effect stopped after a second and left the skin on Remus’s fingers perfectly whole. 

“Thanks,” Remus said. It felt odd to thank the person who was largely responsible for Remus needing to bite his nails in the first place. Sirius looked smug and took one of Remus’s hands before he could stop him, brought the fingers straight to his mouth. Remus squirmed in his seat and glanced nervously around the Common Room. The corner they were in wasn’t visible to many of the other students currently in the room, but still. Sirius kissed each and every fingertip, languid and silent, and his eyes, too, were focused on Remus’s hands. It gave Remus plenty of time to ponder just how beautiful Sirius was, to marvel how something as picture-perfect as Sirius’s face had sprung into existence in the first place. Especially considering who his family was.

Sirius sucked on his thumb, delving all the way onto the second knuckle, and with a flutter of long, elegant lashes he raised his gaze to meet Remus’s. Remus stared helplessly into his eyes, utterly bewitched by the sheer artistry of their shape and colour and the arrogant, provocative, surprisingly kind glint in them. He could feel Sirius’s tongue tease and caress the underside of his thumb, and it was as if there was a phantom tongue simultaneously trailing up his cock in perverted mimicry. Before he knew it, he had grabbed the bulging front of his robes with his free hand and he was panting wildly as he tried to stave off his climax.

“Lads.”

The loud scrape of a chair pulled Remus out of it, and he slapped his spit-slick hand up to cover his mouth, to prevent the desperate whine building inside from escaping. 

When he looked up, James was seated next to him talking and gesticulating in a familiar way, while Peter stood next to him and stared awkwardly just past Remus’s shoulder. Sirius had pulled up one leg to his body and was leaning his chin on his knee, haughty eyes watching James. Trying, and likely failing, to put a relaxed and inconspicuous face on, Remus slowly copied Sirius and brought a leg up against his chest, and when that wasn’t enough, the other one too. He hugged his legs viciously and tried to will his blood to stop boiling, his body to settle. 

“-she normally tends to her bush at that point in the evening, what is it she's nicknamed it again?”

James paused with what had been a monologue of unspecified length, seeing as Remus had no idea how long it had taken him to get the blood that had emigrated south to come back up and provide his brain with what it needed to function. This sentence certainly had his attention, though, and he stared worriedly at James. Could his borderline creepy interest in Lily have somehow taken him to listen in on her personal grooming habits?

“She calls it her ‘squishy wee purple puss-puss’”, Peter interjected helpfully. “I’ve seen her bend down to talk to it behind the Greenhouses when she doesn’t think anyone is around.”

Remus gaped at him.

“Yeah, but I doubt that ‘squishy wee purple puss-puss’ is the scientific name,” Sirius said with a smirk.

“Well, you’re the expert, aren’t you,” Remus interrupted, suddenly more angry than worried for Lily’s privacy. 

The other three all turned to him, Peter and James looking surprised, and Sirius infuriatingly amused.

“Lily told me,” Remus continued, suddenly feeling vicious, “that there’s a girl in Hufflepuff who wants to date me.”

This time James gaped at him, looking quickly at Sirius and then back again at Remus. Remus was only really interested in Sirius’s reaction, however. 

“Good on you, Moony!” Sirius said, getting up to ruffle Remus’s hair and sounding… Proud?

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again. He felt confused and not a little humiliated. He dared a look at Sirius’s eyes, and they looked amused and fond and… Yes, proud. 

“Back to Sprout’s squishy wee purple puss-puss, now,” Sirius continued, and something decidedly evil glimmered momentarily in his eyes, “we know she’ll be out tending to it before she turns in. It’s such a dear thing to her, as well, that if we were to get our hands on it -”

Remus spluttered out loud but was ignored.

“-we could use it to lure her anywhere.”

“Which is where Kettleburn’s grotto comes in,” James said with a nod. “Do you know which Hufflepuff it is, Moony?”

“No,” Remus whispered. 

“Tough luck. Right, this leaves us with the task of delegating the work. Remember, tonight is supposed to be a night of lust, the purely romantic kind. Me and you can sneak into Hogsmeade to get the balloons and the bubbly, Padfoot, and that leaves getting a suitable self-reading book from the library and getting the house elves involved to Moony and Wormtail.”

“Don’t forget we need to break into the grotto, as well. And I reckon I’ve trained the crups well enough that they can be trusted to partake in the fun tonight.”

“You’ve been training the crups?” Remus asked confusedly of Sirius. To be fair, that was perhaps the least confusing thing that had ben said so far, but still.

“Yeah, obviously. Where did you think I’d gotten to an hour before dinner most days?”

“Umm,” Remus stated, finishing up with some unintelligible mumbling. He had no idea if Sirius was pulling his leg or not. 

“Won’t we have to take care of Kettleburn, too, make sure he doesn’t catch us in the act?” Peter said.

“He’s drinking with Hagrid, tonight. I spoke with Hagrid and he’s on board. He’ll keep Kettleburn in his hut till nine-ish, then send him on his merry way.”

“Sounds like we have it all sorted, then,” Sirius said contentedly. 

Remus shuddered, wondering exactly what it was they had planned. He really hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Before he had time to ask, he was dragged up from his seat by Peter, who was babbling something about left-over Victoria sponge before he steered Remus firmly towards the portrait hole. 

“I don’t think Sirius is the jealous type,” Peter said in a low voice as they were out of the Common Room. 

“Umm,” Remus said, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow. 

“Not that I blame you, in fact you have my full sympathy. There are so many witches in this school who want him, although most probably have, already…” Peter broke off with a nervous smile.

Remus tried to return it, but he had a feeling it came off more like a pained grimace.

“Anyway, I don’t think he understood that you were trying to make him jealous. If you want to keep him, you’ll have to… Well.”

“What?” Remus asked.

“You know what, I actually don’t know,” Peter said uncomfortably. 

“Meaning I won’t get to keep him,” Remus said quietly. It wasn’t news to him, so why did his heart sink all the way down to the region of his knees?

“What would you like for your birthday?” Peter asked shrilly. “It’s two days after the full, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Dunno, maybe some chocolate.”

“Chocolate I can do,” Peter said with renewed bravado. Then he seemed to choke on thin air, and Remus gave him a curious look. Peter’s eyes were glued to two girls who were walking towards them, girls Remus vaguely recognized as fourth year Gryffindors. One was bubbly and blonde and the other pale and graceful.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” he asked.

“We’re setting a trap, weren’t you listening?”

“Ah,” Remus said, turning around to walk backwards to be able to look back at the girls who had walked past them.

“Remus,” Peter hissed, pulling at his arm to get him to turn back. “Stop staring.”

Remus gave Peter a knowing look before he turned back and continued walking.

“A trap, you say? Let’s hope it’ll work better than that time we tried to set the engorged mousetrap in the forest for the acromantula.”


	55. You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Take A Chance On Me" by ABBA.

It all started out like one of their normal schemes, but somehow, at the end of the night, Professor Kettleburn was missing a prosthetic, Professor Sprout had been knocked out cold, James was missing all of his marbles and Snape had had to be rescued from a tree he had climbed to get away from the crups. It came as little surprise that both Sirius and James had received two nights each of detention.

To begin with, James and Peter were hiding together in Greenhouse one, which was the one closest to Kettleburn’s grotto. They had successfully stolen Professor Sprout’s new protégé; a small plum-coloured bushy plant with a thick, soft trunk that ended in a head that had something that looked like whiskers and cat ears on top. It wasn’t pretty, but it was rare, and clearly it meant a lot to Professor Sprout. Of course, this was before they knew about the dog-issue.

They missed Kettleburn actually exiting his grotto, but after half an hour or so they heard merry singing echoing over the grounds, and it was easy for the boys to conclude that Kettleburn and Hagrid had begun their evening of camaraderie. It was time to break into Kettlburn’s home.

James immediately got out his half of the two-way mirror and whispered Sirius’s name into it. Peter was holding the pot with the purple plant, which had been yawning hugely at regular intervals, suddenly appearing more alert and leaning towards James as if to look in the mirror. 

“We’re all set,” James whispered as soon as Sirius’s grinning face came into view (his lips looked shiny and kiss-swollen and there was a crup right next to him, attempting to lick the mirror). 

“We haven’t seen anyone on the map,” Sirius began, although he was quickly interrupted.

“We haven’t actually looked, though, have we, hold on-”

“Maybe you two could wait with the snogging until you’re not crup-sitting, like normal people,” James began, the plant in Peter’s arm hissing as if in agreement, but they were quickly interrupted by an indignant Sirius.

“I will not be called normal, Prongs! Coast’s clear, don’t worry about it. We’ll meet you in ten.”

“Wait-”

But whatever Remus had meant to say was cut off as the mirror on Sirius’s end went blank. James smiled fondly at them and stowed his mirror away (it barely fit into his pocket on account of the unusual number of muggle marbles and the luminescent purplish miniature balloons he was carrying) and then had a quick stretch. Peter was fidgeting nervously beside him, and the plant had gone back to yawning. 

“Let’s go,” James said. He threw the Invisibility Cloak over them both and they exited the Greenhouse and made their way to the grotto. At regular intervals, he magically blew up the tiny balloons the same colour as the plant and hung them in the air. They would hopefully light the way to Kettleburn’s love nest for Professor Sprout, as it was completely dark outside with barely any light from the castle windows visible so far into the school grounds. 

“I think there’s someone following us!” Peter hissed in his ear, but James shrugged him off.

“Just our canine friends, I’ll bet.”

James was about to dig out his wand to unlock the door, but something made him try the doorknob first. It wasn’t locked at all and James tutted at Professor Kettleburn’s carelessness. 

“Hold this,” James said, handing the Cloak to Peter for safe-keeping.

The grotto was quaint and homely on the inside. James began setting the table while Peter went over to the fireplace to light it. Professor Sprout’s special plant was placed in the middle of the table and James poured champagne into two of Kettlburn’s self-whittled massive cherrywood goblets. 

Sirius suddenly burst through the door, laughing madly and followed by the two half-grown crups and Remus, who was ferociously chewing on his nails again. 

“You should see where I’ve put Snivellus,” Sirius told James proudly between laughs. 

“What’s the great greasy git got to do with anything?” James asked and stooped down to greet the frolicking crups.

“He was out there, lurking. Trying to spy on us, catch us in the act, but he got what he deserved.”

“I’m not sure anyone deserves-” Remus began, but he was interrupted by a loud hissing noise. 

“What’s up with Sprout’s special puss-puss?” Sirius asked once it became clear that the noise was coming from the potted plant. 

“I think it’s the crups,” Peter said.

The crups were acting as though they would quite like to make friends with the plant, they’d gotten up on their hind legs to be able to get their heads closer to it. The plant was swinging from side to side, spitting and hissing and in every way making it abundantly clear that it hated them for it. 

“Puffle, Skiffle, come here,” Sirius said commandingly. The crups barked once each, but to James’s mingled surprise and pride they followed Sirius’s command and sat down either side of him. He gave the plant a last, worried glance (it looked as if it was swelling with self-righteous anger) before he, too, walked over to Sirius.

“One will hold the platter of cakes, the other one the self-reading book of 15th Century sonnets?”

“They’ll balance them on their heads, yeah.”

“You sure about this, Sirius? I mean, it’s a lot to ask of a dog.”

“You insult me,” Sirius said haughtily. “Don’t disappoint me now,” he added in an undertone, looking sternly between the happily panting crups. 

Peter handed over the tray bearing a selection of French fancies and thick slices of Victoria sponge oozing strawberry jam to Sirius. James took the little book of romantic poems and opened it on the first page. It immediately began reciting ( _‘For ‘twas on a fine young morning, I saweth you drooling and fawning, over the shape of a woman’s slender big toe, it rendered you speechless with romantic woe…’_ ) and James very carefully handed the open book to one of the crups. It snatched it and held it in its jaws, great shimmery strands of spittle immediately dripping down the sides and wetting the centuries old pages. 

“Stay,” Sirius said impressively and he simultaneously tried to put down the tray on top of the other crup’s head. 

“What’s going on here?” 

James turned around to look at the door. Framed in the purple light from the luminescent balloons, were Professors Kettleburn and Sprout. They were early. 

“Ah,” James began eloquently, noting from the corner of his eye how Remus and Peter had backed into the space in the corner, and it looked as if Peter was getting out the Invisibility Cloak, “I’m glad you both made it! Do come in, no need to be shy now.”

Sprout gave him a perplexed look, which turned into one of consternation as the silence was filled by the book of sonnets.

_“This ring I wish to acquaint thy with, it’s not one made by gold- or silversmith, it was made in my mother’s womb after laborious weeks, it can nowadays be found betwixt my cheeks…”_

“Creating an atmosphere,” James said out loud trying to talk over the book and wondering if Peter really had gotten hold of the correct one. Peter and Remus had both disappeared from view by now and there was no way to ask.

Kettleburn was laughing into his thick, unruly beard (he smelt of alcohol all the way to James, and James did wonder if he and Hagrid hadn’t gone overboard a bit. This was supposed to be his big chance to woo the love of his life, after all). Sprout shook her head in a way that might have been either an attempt to shake off the instinct to strangle them or an attempt not to laugh out loud. James was about three quarters certain it was the second. At least until Sprout’s eyes hit upon the purple plant on the table. 

“No!” she shouted, running up to it with her arms outstretched, and at the same time Puffle the crup decided that he had had enough of balancing the tray on his head. He leapt alongside Sprout, easily overtaking her at the same time as the French fancies went flying (a green one hit Sirius between the eyes and a particularly succulent slice of Victoria sponge ended up in Kettleburn’s beard).

“No dogs!” Sprout was shouting, arms flying out and trying to step in between the eagerly gambolling crup and the purple plant, which had suddenly arched its trunk like an angry feline, ears drawn back, and was that…?

“Pus!” Sprout shouted, ducking, and there was an explosion of something that smelled strongly of catnip and looked like purple snot. Puffle, Sprout and James were the closest and got the brunt of it, and James had to remove his glasses and dry them on Kettleburns formerly canary yellow curtains, both his sight and his sense of smell badly impaired.

The plant emitted a small, almost demure, ‘meow’.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius’s voice came from somewhere behind him, and he sounded much too delighted for what James felt the situation called for. Kettleburn was still laughing, too, although suddenly –

_“I wish for thou to use thy tongue, push it into the orifice it surely belongs-”_

There was a ‘watch out!” from Sirius, a shout from Kettleburn, and then the sound of sharp teeth gnawing on wood…

“Bad crup, Skiffle! Give the Professor his leg back, there’s a good… NO!”

James pressed his glasses back on his face, saw that Sprout was trying to calm the freaky cat-plant down, that Kettleburn had toppled over behind the open door, trying to wrestle one of his prosthetic legs out of the crup’s mouth, and Sirius had caught the other crup, the one covered in purple pus, and was trying to restrain it from stealing Kettleburn’s other leg.

This was when Snivellus arrived, keeping to the shadows in the doorway. James barely had time to pull a face at him, barely had time to wonder why on earth he looked and smelled as if he had been doused in petrol, before he had aimed his wand at James.

Snivellus’s wand slashed dangerously through the air and sent off something blindingly white, clearly aimed for James’s midriff. He managed to take one step as well as get the beginnings of a shield charm up, and it was almost enough but not quite, he could feel the fabric tear just below his right hip. 

He yelped, but fortunately it didn’t cut through his skin. There was, however, the noise of dozens of heavy things hitting the floor. 

“Puffle, Skiffle, attack!” Sirius’s voice roared, and next Snivellus was the one screaming. James could hear the patter of feet, too, of boy and crups racing off, and next there was yet another person yelling, this time it was Professor Sprout. Her hands were flailing ridiculously above her head, pus flying around her, then she crashed backwards, having tripped over something. James belatedly realized that he perhaps should have emptied his pockets of marbles before going out tonight.

Sprout hit the floor with a nauseating ‘crack’, and James clutched at his torn robes with one hand while he tried to find his wand from the pocket that was still intact.

“Renervate,” Sirius said, sounding about as guilty as James felt, and a red light hit Professor Sprout. She groaned and sat up, patting the back of her head gingerly. It was lucky she wore a hat, at least.

James tried to mend the tear in his robes, only to realize that it didn’t work. Snape must have used a proper curse. 

Sirius had helped both Kettleburn and Sprout to the ochre-coloured sofa in the corner (the pus that had splattered onto it was marginal) and the plant appeared to have settled back into yawning in its pot when Sprout finally spoke.

“What on earth was the plan tonight, boys?”

“We wanted to create a romantic evening,” James answered promptly. Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded in agreement. 

Sprout raised an eyebrow and let her eyes travel over the two goblets of bubbly, the assortment of cakes and purple pus on the floor, and the book of sonnets that was still in the midst of reciting. ( _‘How I wish to worship, thy big toe, ankle, knee and hip, and if my mouth were to err towards thy centre, well then, my love, would you grant me to enter…’_ ) Sprout silenced the book with her wand.

“For whom?”

“What?” James asked. “I’m sorry, what, professor?” he amended quickly.

“Romantic evening for whom?”

“Oh,” Kettleburn said, suddenly sitting up straighter. “You fecking… You’ve done this for me, haven’t you?”

Sprout frowned at the three of them in turn. James tilted his head and watched the two of them together on the sofa. They would absolutely make a cute couple, they looked just right side by side. Even if Sprout had an unfortunate patina of catnip-smelling goo and Kettleburn was missing more limbs than usual. 

“Why did you take my plant and put it here?”

“To get you to-” James began, but he fell silent at Kettleburn’s adamant headshake.

“Silly prank, wasn’t it, lads? They’ve amused me greatly in the past, but I don’t think they meant to include you, Pomona, dearest. Just a practical joke gone wrong, isn’t that right, lads?"

James exchanged a bewildered look with Sirius and then they both nodded. 

“Right-o,” Professor Sprout said briskly. “And what punishment do the pair of you usually get when you get caught doing one of your ‘amusing’ practical jokes?”

“Detention, professor,” James said meekly.

“Ah, yes. And seeing as the two of you failed at whatever this was, I’m sure you’ll agree that two nights worth of detention is only just? The bump at the back of my head certainly thinks so.”

“Sure,” James said reluctantly. Sirius muttered something that sounded vaguely polite but was probably a string of swearwords. 

“Thursday and Friday,” Sprout continued. “And you’re not doing it together, either, I still remember the spray paint on the ceiling and the Periscope Plant that went missing last time I had you both in for detention at the same time. Professor Kettleburn, here, will take one of you on Thursday and the other on Friday, I the other.”

Sirius clicked his tongue annoyedly, but James privately thought that they had just dodged a curse. The full moon was on Saturday.

“I’ve told you you can call me Silvanus,” Kettleburn said softly to Sprout, then he settled in to eat the slice of cake that had gotten nestled into his beard. Professor Sprout ignored him. 

“Now, where did those two crups run off to?”

“I think they may have spotted another student out of bed,” James said awkwardly, and he sent another glance down at his torn robes.

“I see. They won’t hurt anyone, will they?” Sprout asked of Kettleburn, who sent Sirius a shifty look. 

“They nicked my fecking leg,” he muttered instead of answering her question. 

“We can go look for them and get your leg back, sir,” Sirius said, and James smiled when he heard the nasty undertone in Sirius’s voice. He, too, hoped the crups were hurting Snivellus right this moment.

Professor Sprout decided to come with them, and so it was that all three of them that found Snivellus. He was impressively high up a tree and aiming hexes and curses at the crups, who of course were immune to most magic and as such more saw the beams of light as fun things to attack in addition to Snivellus. The prosthetic leg was lying underneath the tree as well, with visible toothmarks chipped into the wood but still mostly whole as far as James could tell. As nobody was hurt but also as it was past curfew, Sprout docked some points off Slytherin, which made James decide that the evening hadn’t been a complete failure, after all. The fact that Snape was covered in petrol he seemed incapable of getting rid of magically added to the silver lining.


	56. Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Black Velvet" by Alannah Myles.

Peter and Remus were both in bed when they got back to their dorm, still laughing at the expense of their least favourite greasy git. Sirius’s fascination with muggle vehicles and what they ran on had come in useful tonight. Sirius felt the urge to hex Peter for deserting them after it all went sideways, but then again he knew James would jump at the opportunity to point out that Sirius didn’t mind at all that Remus had made use of the Cloak and gotten himself to safety, same as Peter. 

They both headed for the showers (James was still covered in the smelly, colourful pus the wretched plant had spewed all over the place) and when they got back, James made no comment as Sirius parted the curtains to Remus’s bed and climbed in there instead of heading for his own bed.

Remus was awake and appeared to be just as nervous as always. What gladdened Sirius more than he could say, however, was that Remus was naked. He never slept nude, ever, which meant he had been waiting for Sirius. 

“You perfect little thing,” Sirius muttered underneath his breath, ignoring how Remus’s hand spasmed as it held his blankets to cover up the scar on his side, or how much he blushed at Sirius’s words.

Sirius licked and kissed his way over Remus’s freckly face, his nose and his temples and in the wrinkly corners by his eyes. Thick, pale eyelashes fluttered over Sirius’s bottom lip and down to Remus’s cheeks, domino-effecting a sensational fluttering in Sirius’s belly, one that rose and fell and stole his breath away more effectively than his insistent kissing could.

The freckles continued sparsely down his throat, above the erratically bobbing Adam’s apple and the fine tendons that pulled and stretched underneath Remus’s skin. Sirius tasted it all.

His mouth was on Remus’s shoulder, jumpy muscles and firm bones, skin still a little bit brown and scattered freckles and birthmarks galore. They all tasted like chocolate and salty caramel, flavours seamlessly marrying and spots looking close to identical, the freckles that may just as well have been birthmarks and the birthmarks that were really freckles. Sirius had them all on the tip of his tongue.

Sirius got so hard he almost shook with arousal. Remus was pliable, body accommodating and open. He grew steadily more relaxed the more they did, and Sirius wondered giddily how far Remus would let him go tonight. He sat up and pulled Remus into his lap. Sirius’s hard-on slid comfortably against Remus’s bum, finding its way into the heat of his arse crack. It was like hard drugs or like revving the engine on a motorbike and Sirius exhaled heavily into Remus’s chest, his open mouth met with a heady thumping.

He felt up Remus between his legs as his mouth searched over his chest. Remus was letting him do both, his arms loosely encircling Sirius’s neck and his breath slow and weighty in Sirius’s hair. Sirius’s tongue found a soft, small mound of skin with tiny little hairs going round in a circle and he began laving it with his tongue, moaning into it like it might satisfy his needs. His knuckles kneaded carefully into Remus’s bollocks, into loose skin and ticklish hairs and firm testicles. His other arm had Remus’s waist in a circle, holding him not just in place but just right.

Remus’s nipple was pebbling beautifully underneath his wet tongue. He could feel every little ridge and soaked errant hair and the bigger, rubber-like nub in the middle. Sirius shaped his lips into a tiny ‘o’ and sucked, gentle because he knew he had to be. Remus drew a shaking breath into his hair.

Sirius’s fingertips skimmed up and down Remus’s rock-hard shaft. Remus was tense, now, the teasing was getting to him. Sirius’s fingers came to a stop at the much softer, squishy tip. Remus’s prickhead was drowning in precum, the stuff so abundant it began to dribble over Sirius’s fingernails. He massaged with just his thumb, index and middle finger holding the whole length steady, allowing him to push his thumb into the place Remus was the most sensitive. Remus actually bit into his hair, growl-like noise rumbling all the way up from where Sirius’s mouth was on his chest. He kept his body absolutely still, however, and let Sirius work him with his thumb. Sirius French-kissed Remus’s nipple in time with it, got both him and Remus sloppy with spit, his tongue teasing mercilessly over Remus’s aroused, swollen nipple. Remus was tense as a string instrument being played too hard, and Sirius was desperate to put his appreciation of this beauty into his mouth and his fingers.

Remus sobbed as he came, his enforced stillness breaking down and thrusting into Sirius’s hand. Hot pulses of come hit Sirius in the chest and poured over his hand, and he continued rubbing Remus’s dick and mouthing over his nipple, hoping it would never end even as he knew it already had. Remus toppled over and Sirius eased him the rest of the way down onto the blankets, face first and moaning into the sheets. Sirius couldn’t help himself and had to give himself a few strokes as he watched and licked come off his other hand. Remus’s come. Sirius’s eyes roamed over the body. Remus was breathing heavily, and his hips would occasionally thrust into the blankets. His lower back arched beautifully when he did, lean muscles tensing underneath all of the beloved freckles on display. His arse was white and smooth and retained some baby fat. Sirius felt a swooping deep, deep in his stomach and he had to squeeze his prick hard to keep from shooting off at the sight alone. 

His hands landed on the back of Remus’s thighs and he moved to sit on Remus’s knees. Remus’s skinny legs were lovely, the back of them covered in light peach fuzz and shaped so that Sirius could see every bone and muscle and little pouch of fat. His hands stroked up, hitting the end of his thighs and the beginning of his arse. Such a gorgeous sight.

He bent down, blood pumping loudly at his temples and his cock twitching between his legs. He wondered if Remus would ever let him…

“Sirius?” Remus’s voice was muffled by the sheets and in a way, it was still music to hear his name from Remus’s lips. Even if it was equal to a ‘no’.

Sirius placed a quick, non-invasive kiss on Remus’s pert bum cheek. His lips sank in, and it was a second of pure heaven. Then he let Remus twist around between his thighs until he was on his back blinking up nervously at Sirius. Sirius stared hungrily at him, his untidy hair and his flushed cheeks and his sweaty chest. His right nipple was rosier than his left, and both were still stiff with arousal. As was Remus’s prick, which Sirius could feel against his own bum now.

Remus’s eyes darted to Sirius’s cock, standing ready in between them. Remus licked his lips as he watched, and that made Sirius’s stomach swoop again. Maybe this would be the night when…

Then Remus met his eyes, and Sirius could see the worry there, almost buried underneath the arousal. This was not the night for that.

Sirius stroked his erection, pushed it down so that it touched Remus’s hot and sweaty skin. 

“Can I come on your chest and lick it up?” 

Sirius toyed with Remus’s untouched, left nipple after he made his request. Remus’s eyes fluttered close, frown between his eyebrows, and he nodded once in confirmation. Sirius stroked his cock with first one hand and then the other, rocking back a bit to where Remus’s cock had risen to meet him. He put his index finger on Remus’s bottom lip and watched the other boy suck it in, eyes still closed. Sirius moaned, other hand hot and heavy on his prick. It didn’t take more than ten strokes, how could it with Remus laid out in front of him, his pink nipples and freckled, sunburnt shoulders and his mouth sucking Sirius’s precum off his finger?

He painted Remus with all he had, made him wet and sexy. Remus shuddered underneath him, tongue flicking against his finger and his eyes clenched shut. Sirius had barely finished when he bent down, got down on his knees and elbows, licking and kissing everywhere he could get at, then pressing his whole face in to soak it all up. Remus’s chest was sticky and shiny with sweat and spunk and it tasted like more chocolate and salted caramel on Sirius’s tongue, only much much better. He moaned and had more, some getting into his nose and lots sticking to his chin. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, and Sirius kept licking and kissing and making appreciative noises. Remus’s cock was half-hard on his stomach, and Sirius put his hands playfully close, knowing where he wanted to put his mouth once he’d had his fill of his chest. Remus put his hands on Sirius’s shoulders, they held on tightly. 

Sirius found a nipple again and began suckling on it, loud and lewd, letting it marinate in saliva and come. Remus didn’t respond at all, and Sirius opened his eyes, trying to see Remus’s eyes from his vantage point, his lips still smacking over Remus’s nipple. Remus’s eyes were closed and he was biting his bottom lip with some ferocity.

Sirius let go, crawled up towards his friend’s face, suddenly uncertain.

He kissed Remus’s neck instead, tentatively, and as he did he could feel the boy underneath him gradually relax and stretch out. Sirius could feel an odd lump in his own throat when it all registered; he had not realized that what he’d just done had made Remus tense up. Maybe it wasn’t something he’d wanted Sirius to do in the first place. He pulled both his hands from Remus’s hips, where they had been drawing teasing circles with his thumbs, and he pushed his hands underneath Remus, sliding them up his sweaty back all the way to his shoulder blades. He rubbed there, trying to get underneath them to where the tension was, and with his mouth on Remus’s fragile neck he could both hear and feel the rumbling sigh as Remus relaxed further.

“Thanks for letting me do that,” Sirius whispered into his friend’s throat. It was almost too dutiful, too stale, but Remus nodded and smiled a little, which must mean it was the right thing to say. His eyes were still closed but he wasn’t frowning. Sirius got his hands out and put his thumbs at the hinges of Remus’s jaws, which were just as tense as Sirius had suspected. Not for long. He kissed the fine beginnings of stubble along Remus’s jaw as he massaged the tensions away with his thumbs. Remus hummed low in his throat, a content little noise that meant the world, and Sirius kissed his soft mouth. It tasted divine, it always did, and Remus’s tongue was there, ready for him. Some snogging later and Remus was back to full hardness simple as that, definitely ready for more. Sirius licked him all over the outside of his lips, then ducked down, down, moving until he was faced with an engorged and leaking penis. He kissed that, too.

Remus got up on his elbows to watch, the way he normally did. Sirius winked at him and made pouty lips over the prickhead. His mouth felt raw and wet but that only turned him on more. He could tell Remus was looking at it and not his eyes, and that he liked what he saw. Sirius opened it wide and fucked inside slowly with two of his fingers. He made himself gag over and over all the while holding Remus’s cock to his face. Once he could feel it throbbing he made the switch.

Even though he took it all in it was Remus who appeared to choke on it, pupils blown and a shocked noise escaping between his lips. Sirius pulled it in and out roughly, letting Remus feel and hear how hard he gagged every single time. The saliva from all the way back there was thick and sticky, and it drooled over Remus’s member, coating it and smearing onto Sirius’s swollen lips and dripping down his chin as he worked, hands now on the small of Remus’s back to get him closer. His eyes were tearing up badly, they always seemed to when he went deep, and he was trying to make Remus thrust up and abandon whatever chivalry it was that made him keep still. Spoilsport.

On a particularly prolonged stretch of deep-throating, where Sirius was able to push his whole face into Remus’s soft groin and wet, curly pubes, Remus finally thrusted back. Sirius couldn’t breathe, but he could feel the heavy spurts of come that were flooding his throat headed straight for his stomach. Remus cradled his face and then pulled him off, and Sirius tried to not splutter and cough too much. He was euphoric on the inside and with a bark-like laugh he threw his weight onto Remus, mashing their mouths together. Remus shuddered, no doubt finding Sirius’s mouth beyond gross, but he kissed back with open determination, panting as if he’d run a mile and licking into all the dirty recesses of Sirius’s deliciously abused mouth. Sirius loved how raw his throat felt, and what was more he loved how Remus was hugging their bodies together, holding on with the same purpose James always had. 

He smiled into Remus’s mouth, Remus’s tongue licking gently against the twitching corner of his mouth. He was flying high, blood rushing through him at dizzying speed, and Remus was right there with him, with his hand on his neck and in his hair, mouth now brushing so tenderly over his, eyelashes fluttering and hitting Sirius’s cheek. Their chests were pressed together, glued with sweat and spit, and Sirius could feel that magnificent heartbeat alongside his own, so strong and loud and powerful. Remus let his hands slide down Sirius’s shoulders as if he’d read his mind, hands stopping underneath his shoulder blades, a gentle press down as if to make them one. If Sirius had been hard he would probably have come again, but as it was he could just kiss Remus some more.


	57. You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac.

“Mr Pettigrew, would you please stay behind. I want a word.”

Peter, who had been eagerly watching Sirius and James attempt to attack each other with non-verbal tickling charms, heaved a deep sigh and walked up to his Head of House. Transfiguration had just finished, and Peter had done an abysmal job at vanishing his kitten. To be completely honest, there was some deep-rooted instinct in Peter which made him wary around cats of all shapes and sizes, and today’s fluffy white thing had been no exception. 

McGonagall was glaring expectantly at him as he stopped in front of her desk, and Peter glanced nervously first at her and then all around the room. She was a very intimidating witch.

“Would you like to explain your essay to me,” she said eventually, but only after the silence between them had grown well past uncomfortable.

“P-professor?” he got out, trying to remember what he had even written about in the essay he had handed in earlier in the week. His mind drew a complete blank and he tried to dry his sweaty palms against his thighs. 

“Since Christmas, we have been studying the subject of vanishing animate things. Currently, we’re vanishing mammals,” Professor McGonagall said coldly.

Peter gawped, closed his mouth with a loud chatter of teeth, and then opened it again. 

“I know that, Professor,” he tried, wringing his hands and trying to lure whatever small amount of pity McGonagall possessed out of her. He was beginning to get a vague idea of what this was about. Where Remus had extended a helping hand whenever Peter needed it before, Remus had been rather busier than usual this past month. Busy chewing Sirius’s face off, apparently, busy to the point where Peter had had to write the last Transfiguration essay all on his own. Question was, what had he written about?

“Cheese, Mr Pettigrew, is not an animate thing.” 

Peter swallowed. Remus had once brewed essence of murtlap so fatally wrong that he had produced an animate clump of cheese that had tried to attack anyone that came near its cauldron, even Remus. Especially Remus. 

“I wrote an essay about cheese?” Peter said, keeping it somewhere vague between statement and question. He did like cheese, a lot, so he could sort of see how it had happened.

“The first half of your essay, which I might add stylistically matches your previous writings, was on the theme of vanishing different types of cheese and the troubles the caster might face when dealing with goat’s cheese. The latter half, which was several feet long, read like a review of the different types of cheeses served here at Hogwarts, and a plea that, and I quote, ‘the elves might consider adding brie to all chicken-based foods, and cheddar to anything beef.’”

“And did you agree with my assessment?” Peter said, immediately after which he pushed his whole fist into his mouth. Sometimes he forgot that he didn’t have James’s self-confidence, effortless comedic timing or charm. 

“Detention, Mr Pettigrew,” McGonagall said. “Saturday, eight o’clock.”

“But Moony-” Peter began anxiously, fortunately his mouth was still plugged up by the fist and so McGonagall merely gave him a dismissive look and waved him towards the door. Peter went quietly.

He kept his eyes out for Pippa while he walked up staircases and through corridors to get to Gryffindor Tower. There were lots of students in the corridors, and Peter noticed that most of the fifth and seventh years were laden with books. OWLs and NEWTs were fast approaching, but Peter had successfully managed to ignore them, so far. James and Sirius didn’t care, and Remus had, as already established, been busy in recent weeks. Maybe they were part of the reason he was biting his nails so much, though. 

“Peter!” a happy voice said, and Peter almost walked into a suit of armour out of sheer shock. The voice belonged to a girl.

“Dorcas!” he said as he caught sight of the girl in question, matching the friendly tone of her voice as best he could. 

“Roaming the corridors all on your own, I see,” she said with a sweet smile. 

“Right back at you,” Peter countered, feeling unhappy with how he was, indeed, alone. He would have appeared much cooler with James or Sirius by his side, and even walking with Remus would have meant that he wasn’t alone. Girls apparently liked Moony, too.

“You’re right,” Dorcas said, but she didn’t sound at all uncomfortable about the fact that she was on her own. “I’m meeting some friends in the library, we’re going through our second-year Charms notes today. Maybe you’d like to join?”

“Oh,” Peter said, suddenly a bit flustered. That was rather nice of her, it had to be admitted. “Thanks… I usually just study with James and Remus and Sirius, you know.”

“I do know who they are,” Dorcas said with a twinkle in her eye. “They’d be welcome to come, too. Are they any good at Charms?”

“Very,” Peter said importantly. “Well, James and Sirius are, but they never study, so I don’t think they’ll come.”

“And what about Remus?”

“He studies,” Peter assured her. “Thanks for the offer and everything, but as a matter of fact, I’m supposed to meet them before dinner, they’re probably wondering where I am.”

And what a proud thought that was. Peter felt his chest swell as he heard his friends’ voices in his head, asking each other worriedly about his whereabouts. His chest deflated a bit, somehow he could hear Sirius’s obnoxious barking laughter which easily overpowered everything else. A boy could dream, though.

“Don’t let me keep you, in that case,” Dorcas said. “Say hello to Remus and the other two from me, and I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks!” Peter said and he set off at a faster pace, which was just a little uncomfortable for him given the heft of his physique around his middle. Maybe the others were worried about where he had gotten to, though.

“Hello, dear,” the Fat Lady greeted him imperiously as he drew close. “If you want my advice, I’d say you might want to consider laying off some of those cakes.”

Peter huffed, but he was too out of breath after his exertion to verbally defend himself. 

“And stay out of mischief. I sometime fear that you’ve fallen into a bad crowd, young man.”

Peter snorted. He was about to say the password (‘fiddlesticks’) when the portrait swung open as if it had read his mind. He moved forward to climb in, but then had to stop in front of it as he noticed there was someone climbing out from the other side. 

“Pippa,” he more mouthed than whispered. Two stunning, laughing dark eyes looked up and met him full on, and it was plenty enough to make his knees visibly wobble.

“Hmm?” she asked, and it was just as expressive and melodic as Peter had always known anything coming out of her perfect, tiny red mouth would be. “Hello,” she continued, a bit more shyly now.

Peter did the only thing he could do; he gurgled a bit and then he stumbled over his own feet. 

Pippa giggled, and it sounded as if there was someone right behind her, giggling as well. Peter realized from the way she had stopped inside the portrait hole that it was because he was blocking her way out. He struggled for several seconds, but finally he managed to regain his balance and held out a sweaty pink fleshy hand for her and stepped a little to the side. 

“Really, what’s taking so long,” he heard the Fat Lady mutter, but her commentary couldn’t have mattered less to Peter, because right this second, the glorious gorgeous perfect angel that was Pippa Philpott was accepting his hand, was using him for leverage as she gracefully jumped out of the portrait hole. 

“Thanks,” she said, looking him straight in the face and smiling beautifully, so very beautifully, and just like that Peter was deeply, madly in love. 

“Oomph,” he got out, because Greta Catchlove, who had followed Pippa through the portrait hole, decided to use not just his hand but also his shoulder to lean on as she jumped out to join her friend. 

“Cheers,” she said mirthfully and without really paying any attention to him, but as Peter was still staring at Pippa, it was hardly his place to judge.

The moment was over, and the two girls walked off together, leaving Peter behind to collect his chin from the floor, to gingerly pat the front of his robes to make sure his heart wouldn’t actually make a break for it and run after the angel that had snared it. 

“Ah, to be young again,” the Fat Lady said, but she didn’t sound like she longed for anything bygone, more like she was mocking anyone who dared to claim to be young. Peter didn’t respond, but it did help him pull himself back together. Peter climbed into the Common Room and heard the Fat Lady slam herself shut over the entrance.

The other Marauders were sprawled over James’s bed in the dormitory. Remus and Sirius were pressed up against each other’s sides. Remus had his eyes closed but he looked too ill to be asleep, the moon was clearly beginning to get to him. James was lying on his back tossing a small muggle ball up and down, up and down, almost hitting himself in the face but of course, as Peter knew, his reflexes were something else. Peter sat down on the edge of his own bed, seeing as there really wasn’t enough space for him on James’s. He eyed the other three wistfully.

“I got detention,” Peter explained, giving Remus a quick guilt-ridden look before he had to look away.

“On Saturday?” Sirius guessed with that unnerving power of deduction Peter greatly disliked.

He nodded into his lap. “Sorry, Moony.”

“Don’t mention it,” Remus said kindly, opening his eyes at a crack.

“Did you actually do anything to deserve it or was it just because your last essay was that shallow in its layers of poorly-spelled bollocks?” Sirius asked.

Peter looked up in time to see both Remus and James shake their heads at Sirius.

“Doesn’t matter,” James said firmly, “me and Pads can manage. You can get a good night’s sleep, instead.”

“None of you _have_ to come,” Remus said immediately, which resulted in Sirius unceremoniously forcing a hand over his mouth.

“We _want_ to come every moon, Remus. All three of us.”

“It will be all three of us next month,” Peter promised, and James nodded fiercely. 

“Anything to make it more bearable for you,” Sirius continued quietly while he removed his hand and placed it on Remus’s chest instead. Peter felt his face heat up as though he had just overheard something very private. Remus was blushing too, but then he did at the slightest provocation. 

“That’s settled, then,” James said with his special brand of having the final say over anything Maraudery. “Onto our other points of order. I really need to pay Snivellus back in kind for the way he tried to cut my bits off with that curse during operation Kettleburn loves Sprout. I’m thinking stink bombs, superglue or maybe fire.”

“Drown him in soap,” Sirius suggested, and it was curious how venomous his voice could sound while his eyes on the back of Remus’s head were absolutely gooey. Remus had closed his eyes again and was burrowing into Sirius. Peter watched them with undisguised fascination.

“Wouldn’t get rid of the grease,” James said with matching venom. 

Remus made a soft, snuffling noise and pressed his face completely into Sirius’s hair and neck, apparently succumbing to sleep. Peter could see Sirius and James exchange a look, but Peter wasn’t close enough to see what it was. Sirius began rubbing his fingers into the thick, untidy curls on Remus’s head.

Peter looked down at his own chubby, pink sausage fingers. Imagined them running through fine, shiny dark hair. He could see her small, well-sculpted ears, could see how her slender neck would twist the smooth skin when she turned her head to get closer to Peter.

Today was a momentous day, thought Peter, today was the day when history changed. If he didn’t hear what his friends talked about until it was time to go down to dinner, then nobody could say it was his fault.


	58. Hot as a fever, rattle of bones, I could just taste it, taste it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon.

Remus’s day was a fog of tiredness. Sometimes he felt alright up until the day of the full moon but usually the tiredness, the aches in his joints and head and the feverish sensations all set in a day or two before the full, just like today. He found himself oddly aware of Sirius’s presence throughout the day, which wasn’t normal as he usually had trouble noticing or thinking about anything at all when he was in his pre-moon state. He had a gnawing feeling that this was something he ought to analyse once he was in his right mind again.

Sirius had detention with Sprout, and Remus couldn’t follow him there even though he felt the impulse to do so. James, who had served less than an hours’ detention with Kettleburn before he was released, went to sleep along with Peter after some raunchy games of exploding snap which Remus was too unfocused to participate in. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the canopy and waiting. It was only when the room was dark and filled with the even breathing of two sleeping boys that Sirius returned, and Remus was hit with the realization of what he had been waiting for.

He felt almost like a sleepwalker when he crept over to Sirius’s bed. Sirius was removing his clothes into the mess that was his trunk and he watched Remus with something akin to amusement as he stripped. Remus got into his friend’s bed without asking, and he was struggling to get his shirt off when Sirius finally joined him, pulling the drapes shut around them and muttering a soundproofing charm and leaving his lit wand at the end of the bed.

Sirius’s eyes sparkled prettily in the dim red-tinged light, but Remus felt his eyes drawn to other parts of Sirius’s body, all of which were on display for him. He felt Sirius’s hands on him, carefully easing him down onto his back.

“You’re burning up, Moony, let me take care of you,” he whispered quietly in Remus’s ear, and his lips stayed there, dealing out featherlight kisses to Remus’s neck and behind his ear. Sirius’s hand was carding through his hair, fingertips massaging his scalp and for a while Remus managed to close his eyes and get lost in the sweet sensations. Then Sirius’s mouth left his neck in favour of his nipples and Remus couldn’t focus on anything nice anymore. His prick woke up with a sudden vengeance, and an animal need that wasn’t his took over his brain. Sirius, who had been suckling softly on his nipple, was suddenly on his back although Remus couldn’t remember flipping them. Remus found his own mouth latching onto Sirius’s with a growl. Sirius tried to kiss him back at first, an aroused moan in his throat, limbs flailing under Remus, but the animal within wasn’t having it and Remus used his tongue and teeth roughly, pushing his friend down and listening contentedly as he gasped for breath in Remus’s mouth. 

Next Remus descended on his friend’s chest, sucking harshly and using his teeth indiscriminately as Sirius arched into him and moaned like he was being paid for it. Remus’s hands struck out in different directions, one wrapping itself around Sirius’s leaking erection and squeezing, the other one grabbing hold of his chin, the heel of Remus’s hand pressing into Sirius’s windpipe to control the noises. He stopped that as quickly as he had started it, a painful and dizzying struggle for control muddling Remus’s head, and then he freed the nipple he had been devouring as well and pushed himself further down. 

His limber hands fit perfectly into the hollows by Sirius’s hips and he emphatically pushed down on them as he took Sirius’s prick in his mouth. It filled him up like the missing piece of a puzzle. He bobbed his head carefully up and down, successfully fighting the urge to let his teeth catch on his friend but unable to stop himself from sucking with a strength that couldn’t be completely pleasant. Sirius was moaning and telling him how good he looked like this, how good it felt, and it both warmed Remus and angered him as he couldn’t control what came out of Sirius’s mouth. He was in charge of Sirius’s hips, which he could feel trying to buck and thrust underneath his hands, and he controlled what happened to Sirius’s prick, which felt almost like a caught animal in Remus’s mouth; hot, smooth and velvety made soaking wet by Remus’s mouth. He tried to be nicer to it, using less suction and more tongue, and then he felt it pulse and move like a garden hose you let go of. Sirius groaned with relief. 

For some reason the flavour wasn’t half bad now, even though Remus distinctly remembered finding it disgusting before. With that memory something else came flooding back too, and he whimpered and swallowed and withdrew quickly, his whole body shrinking and shivering with sudden worry at what he had done. 

Sirius’s hands came back, guiding him gently onto the middle of the bed, laying him out with caresses and kisses as if he was dealing with a skittish animal, soothing words and praise mumbled into his skin. Remus kept his eyes closed, hoping it would all go away if he didn’t look, and therefore the sensations of Sirius licking into his mouth, tasting his lips and his tongue deliberately with his own, felt like so much more than the previous kisses they had shared. 

“That was really hot, Moony. Are you ok? Is it the full moon?” Now that Sirius was more talking into his mouth than kissing him Remus reluctantly opened his eyes. Sirius’s pupils were lust blown and not completely sane, which worried and calmed Remus in equal measure. As he looked further, he could tell that Sirius’s mouth was open and wet and looked used, like a juicy red plum someone had bitten into. There were angry red bitemarks on his chest that Remus to his horror realized he was responsible for. 

“I’m so-” Sirius clapped his hand over Remus’s mouth with a grin, eyes glittering with dangerous delight. 

“None of that now, this was fucking hot and I’m not hurt.” Sirius leaned in and kissed his forehead and Remus trembled while he felt his cheeks redden violently. 

“What else does full moon Moony want?” Sirius asked him quietly and intently as he removed his hand from Remus’s mouth. Remus stared back helplessly, his wilting erection was getting back into full swing with the realization that this wasn’t over, but he didn’t dare let his mind wander, scared of what might happen if he lost control again. 

Sirius got up from him and his torso disappeared completely from the bed, Remus could hear him rooting through his trunk over his own frantic heartbeat. Remus cumbersomely sat up just as all of Sirius made a reappearance, the boy clutching a small bottle with a thick clear liquid in his hand. 

“I don’t want to-” Remus began worriedly, but Sirius was laughing and shaking his head as if he thought Remus was the one who had jumped to conclusions.

“You’re hung like a hippogriff, there’s no way I’m letting you. Have you orgasmed with a finger up your bum before? I reckon I can find your prostate; promise I’ll use just the one finger, and you can get off in my mouth like before?”

Remus felt his cock twitch and exude precum as his mind was assaulted with thrilling, forbidden things, and he had a bad feeling that Sirius had seen because he acted as if the matter had been settled, laying down on his back and beckoning Remus over. 

“How am I supposed to...?” 

“On all fours over my head, you twat.” 

It was the arrogant tone and the wording more than anything else that pushed Remus to get into position as instructed, and Sirius grabbed his hips without further ado and pushed him down until his mouth could get at Remus’s swollen, dangling prick. He ended up almost sitting on Sirius, his thigh muscles stretched taut to keep his weight off his friend. It was a ridiculous position to find yourself in, and normally, Remus would have been mortified. The wolf was twisting and turning in his gut, its blood was setting his alight, but Remus couldn’t tell in the slightest what it wanted. It wasn’t scared, though, and certainly not mortified, like Remus should be. He could feel a wet finger in his crack, and it slid in with deliberate slowness after some mildly uncomfortable probing. Sirius had been right, he was able to locate the little bundle of nerves with the tip of his finger, and it was pure bliss after that, thought both Remus and wolf. Sirius rubbed his finger on the same spot until Remus couldn’t feel anything but his tingling prostate, his heavy bollocks and his throbbing prick. 

Time ceased to matter, but Remus became aware at some point that he was thrusting all the way into Sirius’s throat and that he should probably stop. The knowledge that Sirius was choking and gagging on his prick was too much for that other part of his brain and he only managed to make the action slightly less aggressive. Sirius’s other hand was stroking the hateful scar tissue that covered Remus’s hip and Remus knew his conscious brain had never been this closely tied to the wolf. It was also the first time he connected the wolf with something that felt good, and even though he knew he should have hated the loss of control his brain was rebelliously calm throughout. 

There were growls rasping through his throat, and just when they had reached a fever pitch and Remus was about to climax his erection left Sirius’s soft mouth. Sirius was holding his hip in place with an iron grip, arm shaking from exertion, and his other hand left Remus’s arse and began pulling Remus off right over his face. The wolf howled its praises in Remus’s head, and he was so close he didn’t think he would have been able to stop himself even if the wolf hadn’t been there. Remus’s voice finally died in his throat and he watched his prick shoot heavy white ropes over Sirius’s face and open mouth. The prostate massage had had an interesting effect on the proceedings and Sirius’s face got covered in it, spunk dripping down his cheeks and forehead into his unholy halo of black hair. There was so much come Remus began feeling embarrassed about it long before the last of his orgasm had subsided. Sirius finally let go of him and Remus toppled over on his side, exhaustion warring with a worry that was coming from deep within his stomach or maybe his heart. 

Sirius used both hands to wipe his face, then turned and grinned unabashedly at Remus. He looked wrecked with his wet face and his blood red mouth, and Remus had no idea how he could still look happy after something like this. Sirius licked his left hand a few times, his right one had a lazy grip of his own prick which was half hard again. Remus shuddered and watched. That other entity in his brain wanted to compliment Sirius on how thoroughly he was rubbing their come into his neck and mouth and prick.

“I figured the wolf might be into marking?” Sirius asked, with a voice that could have been talking about the weather. Remus buried his burning face in his hands.

“No need to be self-conscious, it’s clear we all liked this. And before you say anything; I know you and that kinky little wolf are separate individuals,” Sirius whispered teasingly. 

Remus said nothing, although he knew that both an apology and a thank you were in order. His exhaustion was bone-deep, but oddly enough his head had cleared and the aches and pains were intermittent, almost like they were fading. Sirius’s lips pressed very gently into his, leaving traces of spunk and iron flavour on him. Remus let out a shuddering breath, but he didn’t open his eyes. He felt Sirius gather him up into his lap and then he stumbled off the bed, carrying Remus like you would a small child. The dormitory felt chilly and Remus wanted to ask Sirius to stay as he put Remus into his own bed, gently draping the clean and cool blankets and sheets around him, fluffing up the pillow behind his head. He didn’t know how to ask, and he kept his eyes closed, a dangerous warmth spreading from his chest through the rest of his body, all the way to every toe and to the tips of his fingers. He felt Sirius’s hands, still a bit sticky, caressing and then softly massaging his face. He found more nerve bundles and tensions, along Remus’s jaw and at the sides of his eyes and then at his temples. It melted away so much stress and tension, and yet he was left with new ones he was only beginning to comprehend. 

Sirius kept one hand over his heart as he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. It was almost like having an out-of-body experience, Remus thought he could feel his heart moving bodies to live in Sirius and something of Sirius’s getting lodged inside of him in return. 

He was mostly asleep when Sirius finally kissed him again and left for his own bed.


	59. Don't go 'round tonight, it's bound to take your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

“There you are!” James said as he finally found Sirius. His best mate was walking up the deserted Grand Staircase. He looked closed off, even as James begun telling him about how he had seen Professor Sprout and Professor Kettleburn talking together after dinner. He dragged Sirius along, back downstairs, because they needed to hurry if they wanted to get to the Shack before moonrise.

James led the way through the Whomping Willow, stuffing his cloak away once they were in the tunnel. It would be just the two of them and Moony tonight because of Peter’s detention. Sirius was still acting off. It wasn’t unheard of, but commonly he would self-destruct or throw a strop or voice his needs to plan a massive prank when he wasn’t his arrogant and witty self. James loved him anyway, though.

“Evans had her hair in a braid today,” James told him conversationally in case he hadn’t noticed. He pushed open the trapdoor and, when Sirius didn’t respond, heaved himself up first through the hole. Sirius followed. The living room in the Shack was dirty and dark as ever, some scattered broken furniture mostly along the walls.

“Moony was more lucid this morning than I think I’ve ever seen him on the day of the full,” James tried instead, noticing as he did that Sirius’s lips were very dark and swollen.

“You look as if you’ve snogged Hagrid,” James continued, and that finally earned him a grin.

“That would’ve been an accomplishment I couldn’t keep to myself. You’ll be the first to know if ever I manage that.”

Sirius’s smile died again, and James watched his friend stare pensively at the closed trap door.

“What is it?”

“I think I may have overplayed my hand.” 

That made no sense and James stared intently at his best friend. They could both hear pained noises from upstairs. The full moon must be entering the scene.

“I ran into Snivellus just now, and I should just have hexed him and left him like I usually do, but I... Thing is, he said I’m a… Well, that doesn’t really matter. He said he’s noticed how Moony looks at me in a certain way.”

“Oh.” James suddenly felt massively out of his depth. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell his friends were successfully remaining friends while they occasionally snogged or shagged or knitted or whatever it was they did in Remus’s fourposter together at night. Sirius had said he didn’t want a relationship with Moony, and surely Moony wouldn’t be stupid enough to catch actual feelings. Or would he?

James could see the uncertainty he felt mirrored in Sirius’s eyes, but there was something else there too… James was trying to put words to it, realization dawning in his subconscious, but then Sirius looked away.

“He also told me he knows Moony’s a werewolf, and that he transforms underneath the Whomping Willow. He said he guessed it years ago, but tonight he would wait by the Willow to see if Remus showed up. And tomorrow, he said he was going to let the whole school know, get us all expelled for hiding a werewolf and get Remus executed by the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.”

“Bloody hell,” whispered James, and both boys could hear growls now, growls that sounded more monster than human. 

“I told him if he’s so keen to find out he can just push a branch to the biggest knot at the roots and go check.”

“You _what_?” James yelped, fighting the urge to turn into a stag with every molecule of his body. There were noises of a large animal waking up upstairs, clawed paws pushing a heavy body up from the floor. 

“I figured that if he’d get properly scared, he’d leave us alone, he’d stop following us and stop talking shit about Moony” Sirius finished hollowly, and with that James could feel his whole world crumbling around him. There were wild noises in the staircase at the same time as they could hear scraping underneath the floor.

“Turn!” James roared, and Sirius obeyed at once and transformed into the bear-like black dog. The trapdoor snapped open, and James rushed over and tried to push Snivellus back in, but the boy had gotten both hands up and was using the floor as leverage. There was a crash behind them, a mean growl and then Snape shouted with terror. James finally managed to get him to relinquish his grip and pushed him once more, Snape screaming as he tumbled backwards. As James looked over his shoulder all he could see was a werewolf on its hindlegs, desperately trying to wrench itself free to leap onto him. Padfoot was completely hidden by the bulk of the werewolf, clearly holding onto the werewolf’s ruff with his teeth, keeping it from attacking. James wasted no time but jumped in after Snape, barely missing his big, greasy head. He managed to get the trapdoor shut, and not a second later there was the sickening thud of a large body throwing itself onto wood. There was growling and howling, and James hoped that Snape would be traumatized enough not to pick up on the fact that there were two beasts making the noise. 

James reluctantly grabbed hold of Snape and dragged him into a standing position, then kept his hand tightly on Snape’s arm as they stumbled back through the tunnel. He was breathing heavily but for once there were no nasty comments or curses from him. It was debatable if James would have heard even if there had been, his head was filled with the white noise left by near-panic and too much adrenalin (not the good, quidditch kind, but the bad, life or death kind) and he didn’t know what to do next. They had to protect Remus, there had to be some way to get Snape to shut up.

James wasn’t sure who was leading the way once they got into the castle. He was still gripping Snape’s arm and it might have been him, yet he had no idea where they were going until they were climbing the stairs to the corridor with the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s Office. 

To his surprise they were met by Dumbledore before they even got to the gargoyle. He was wearing a splendid, dark turquoise morning gown and a nightcap. His eyes weren’t twinkling tonight.

“Severus, James. I thought I saw too much traffic in the grounds this evening,” Dumbledore stated quietly, and Snape suddenly and forcefully shook off James’s hand from his shoulder. The hand didn’t feel right, after, and James wiped it on his robes.

“Lupin is a werewolf,” Snape told Dumbledore in a carrying voice, his fright appeared to have given way to malice once more. 

Dumbledore wasted no time but showed both boys through the opening behind the gargoyle, where they all ascended on the moving staircase. 

The phoenix was on its perch, younger than James had seen it on his previous visits, the epitome of healthy and strong adolescence today. James took the seat closest to the bird. He noticed that there were three seats in front of the desk tonight, as if Dumbledore had expected there to be a third person. Snape took the seat closest to the window, leaving a healthy distance between them. Dumbledore looked troubled as he sat down behind his desk. 

“What happened tonight?” Dumbledore’s eyes were on Snivellus, but James opted to watch Fawkes instead of the other boy.

“Didn’t you hear me, Sir? Lupin’s a werewolf!”

There was a pause which Dumbledore didn’t fill. 

“You already know.” The voice was Snape’s again, and he went from sounding as if someone had just pulled the magic carpet from underneath him to sounding bitter and resigned, as if berating himself for his previous surprise. Someone who was used to adults disappointing him, someone who was used to never trusting anyone but himself. James fought the impulse to look at him, and an even stronger impulse to draw his wand and curse him. The hate Snivellus felt for a fellow boy who lived a cursed life through no fault of his own was nauseating to James, made it impossible to care about his point of view. Not that he would have been much inclined to, anyway. 

“I spoke to Black. He told me how to stop that tree from moving. I found the entrance to a passageway, and then I followed it to the other end. It ends up in an old house of some sort.”

There was more silence, silence during which Snivellus undoubtedly discovered that Dumbledore already knew this, too. James finally thought to look up. Both Dumbledore and Snape were watching him now, although when he looked up Snape immediately looked away, choosing to look out the window rather than to look at James. 

“Sirius told me what he’d done just now,” James said reluctantly. “He said Snape told him he’d figured out what Remus was, that he knew he was inside the Whomping Willow and that he was telling everyone about it, that Remus would be executed. He said he wanted Snape to get scared, that’s why he told him how to get past the tree. I don’t think he realized what he did, probably didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to go looking for a werewolf on a full moon night. Obviously, Sirius should’ve come to you instead. I don’t know why he didn’t.”

James barely got out the last sentence, it really was that difficult to not keep to Sirius’s side at all times. Snape, too, reacted, he stopped looking out the window and scowled in James’s general direction. Perhaps he didn’t like being called an idiot, but then, who in their right mind bore a grudge so deep they would risk their own life just to get other people expelled? Expelled and killed. 

“How long have you two known how to get past the willow?” Dumbledore asked quietly, and James frowned because he didn’t think that was very relevant. Dumbledore raised an expectant eyebrow at him.

“A while. I must have gone through just before Snape tonight, I thought he was already in the Shack. Found out he wasn’t when I got there, and then Remus turned, and Snape showed up and tried to force his way in and we barely got back out…” James hesitated. He thought it had sounded like the unembellished truth, but there was something in Dumbledore’s eyes that told him he wasn’t fooled, that he knew there was more to the story. There was no way James was telling Dumbledore that they were animagi, though, especially since Snape didn’t even appear to have realized that there had been another animal in there with the werewolf he had seen.

“That was very brave of you, James,” Dumbledore said finally. “Where is Mr Black now?”

“I suggested he stay away and leave it to me when I heard what he’d done, and I don’t know where he went after that.” James crossed his arms and looked at Fawkes again. The beady black eyes were turned towards him, but they were expressionless, blinking slowly at James. 

“Can you tell him to stop by when you see him?”

“Of course, Sir.” James looked back at Dumbledore, whose face was inscrutable, eyes tired behind the half-moon spectacles. 

“Thank you, James. You may go.”

“What about Remus?” James asked sharply, not budging from his chair. “He didn’t do anything; he doesn’t even know what happened!”

“I can see no reason why Mr Lupin should be punished for this in any way,” Dumbledore told him.

Snape’s face swivelled around to stare accusingly at Dumbledore. Resignedly, too. James hesitated, weighing his options, wondering… His instincts told him that Dumbledore might understand, though, even though he could not say why.

“Snape threatened to spread a rumour that Remus is gay to the school as well. I think that added to Sirius’s anger tonight.”

“That’s a lie!” Snape hissed, barely audibly, and James looked into his eyes for the first time that night. 

“What’ll happen to Sirius?” James asked into the silence.

Professor Dumbledore, who had been tiredly rubbing his temples, stopped and gave James a sad little smile.

“Goodnight, Mr Potter.”


	60. Love's the funeral of hearts and an ode for cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Funeral of Hearts" by HIM.

James’s fiery hazel eyes and Peter’s watery blue ones were the first two things Remus saw when he woke up. He had the oddest feeling that something major had happened, and his heart clenched as he wondered where the smoky grey ones were.

“Moony, everything is alright. There was an incident, but nobody’s hurt and Dumbledore has made Snape promise to keep quiet.”

There was a pregnant pause after that, then Remus started hyperventilating. Peter helped him drink a calming draught Madam Pomfrey had left out for him and after that James told him the whole sordid story, words seeping steadily into Remus’s psyche like poisonous gas. 

“He told Snape because he thought it might scare him. That’s what he says, and I believe him,” James said earnestly, intent on getting Remus to meet his eyes. Remus began biting on his left thumbnail. “I think it wasn't until we were in the Shack that he realized it would never go the way he intended, that he had fucked up. That Snape was stupid enough to go on a suicide mission, just to get the four of us into trouble.”

“Maybe he thought he could kill a werewolf himself,” Peter suggested, and Remus watched numbly how James elbowed him in the side.

“Sirius didn’t want Snivellus to die,” James continued, and Remus stared disbelievingly at James’s shoulder. “He told me at the last minute, but he still told me before it was too late.” From just his voice Remus had no idea if he actually believed what he said. 

“James got fifty house points for bravery,” Peter said importantly, and there was a sort of abrupt quietness afterwards when he didn’t get the reaction he had expected from Remus. Remus was so close to vomiting, now, the idea that the wolf… That _Remus_ had been that close to killing, to killing both Snape and James…

“Snape has been told to keep quiet about… Well, about everything, if I understood it correctly. Somehow, it’s still gotten out that I saved his life, which, if you ask me, is a bit of an exaggeration anyway… But yeah, he will be extremely cross, even more of a git than he was before, I reckon, although, as Peter here said, that shouldn’t be possible.”

Remus stared into space. He could see his mother’s horrified face in front of him. She had never blamed him for anything, had always refused to see him for the monster he was. Maybe this was the wakeup call that would finally make her see… The fact that he had almost done the most unpardonable thing any individual could possibly do, the only thing that was worse, in Remus’s book, than using one of the Unforgiveable Curses. Bitten with the intent to turn someone, with the intent to curse and maim and kill. He was fully capable of being a monster, his father had seen that in him from the day he was bitten, but his mother… Even his mother must be able to recognize it now, once she was informed of what had happened. James and Peter would see it now as well, Remus was sure; they were bound to leave him, freeze him out, because it was what he deserved. And as for Sirius…

“Sirius spoke to Dumbledore alone, and he’s not really talked about it since. As far as I can tell, he got no punishment, except that he must meet with Dumbledore one-on-one a few times in the unspecified future. He wouldn’t say what it was about, although maybe he actually doesn’t know. Dumbledore’s nothing if not an enigma.”

“I thought he would get detention every weekend for the rest of the year,” Peter said, and if Remus hadn’t known any better, he would almost have thought that Peter was disappointed. 

Remus laid completely still and waited for the penny to drop. Any second now, surely the other two would get up and leave, forever. 

James’s hand was suddenly back on his shoulder. Remus hadn’t noticed when he started crying for real, but it was definitely happening now. How pathetic.

“If this is you blaming yourself, Remus, you need to stop it. If it’s something else, then you carry on, have a good cry and we’re here for you if you want to talk.”

Remus shook his head, his whole body began to tremble. They were all supposed to leave him alone now.

Nobody left. The tears stopped about as abruptly as they had started. Remus laid still and listened while the tears dried into sticky, uncomfortable tracks on his cheeks and down to his ears. 

“The mountains beyond Hogsmeade will be good fun to explore next full moon. Weather should be nicer, too.”

“You’ll just be sitting on my head as usual, won’t you? Like a tourist on a double-decker, just out for a bit of sight-seeing while the rest of us have to do proper, sweaty workouts to get there.”

Remus sniffed, sad and confused and scared and grateful in equal measure. The others seemingly took it for a snort, and Peter leant over this time to bump Remus on the shoulder.

“And your birthday’s tomorrow, just wait until you see what we have planned. I wonder what Sirius-”

Peter’s voice trailed off and James took over before Remus got too much time to think.

“You know Padfoot held the wolf down in the Shack while there was danger, so we know now that he’s strong enough to keep you in check all by himself. Which is great news.”

Remus couldn’t quite believe how easy James’s tone of voice was. How he could act like they could just go back to the way they were before. Talking as if Remus hadn’t just narrowly avoided killing him, or worse, cursing him for life.

“I’m so sorry, James,” Remus croaked, blinking and staring at the ceiling, trying to will the tears away, trying to will it all away…

“I really don’t know what you think you have to apologize for, mate,” James said immediately, reaching over and squeezing Remus’s shoulder. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, here. This is all on Snivellus, and, I suppose, Sirius.”

It vaguely registered for Remus that the last words came out painfully, like they were being pulled like teeth from James’s mouth. 

God, his Sirius…

Remus lost track of the conversation.

When Remus woke up next James and Peter were gone. It was late in the day, and it hit him that since his friends had become animagi, he had never needed to stay in the hospital wing for this long after the full. 

There was movement from the corner of the room, and suddenly he was there, in front of Remus. Forcing him to face his demons. He pulled a chair next to Remus’s bed and sat down, and Remus couldn’t look at him, nor could he stop looking at him. Sirius’s eyes were quite mad with worry, and the broken bits of Remus’s heart grated miserably at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, Moony. I wanted him to leave you alone, leave all of us alone.” Sirius reached out with the back of his hand to stroke a bitter tear away from Remus’s cheek. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

Sirius’s hand stilled in the air between them and then fell uselessly back to his side. Remus watched with hollow satisfaction how realization dawned on Sirius. Something painful appeared in the grey irises and the corners of his eyes, the kind of pain you might feel when someone close to you dies, but as it could be nowhere near what Remus felt he didn’t find it within him to care very much. Remus stroked away his single tear with his own hand and then he sighed unhappily. 

“Can you explain the theory behind the colour changing spell, please. Seeing as Flitwick went through it on Friday when I was moon-addled I might as well have missed that lesson completely for all I remember of it. Same with that whole day, really.”

Stillness stretched for seconds between them, but then Sirius nodded once and dug out his wand from his pocket. There was no point in discussing anything further. When Peter and James joined them some time later there was still some awkwardness in the air, but Remus knew that would disappear in time. They were the Marauders, after all.


	61. That's what you get when you let your heart win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "That's What You Get" by Paramore.

Peter looked curiously from Moony to Padfoot. His two friends were acting quite civil to one another, but neither was really the type to fall back on civility with someone they liked. There was a stiltedness between them, but Peter supposed they should all be happy that they were still talking. 

“How are you feeling, Moony?” he asked Remus quietly, checking worriedly around the Hospital Wing for potential eavesdroppers. It was deserted. Not even Madam Pomfrey was in sight.

“Worse than usual, but of course it could also be a lot more unpleasant than what it is,” said Remus diplomatically. Sirius watched him mournfully, looking every bit like a tragic anti-hero on the stage, slumped across his visitor’s chair like he was offering his heart to be on display. Peter wanted to call him out on his behaviour, it looked so obviously fake, but he was much too scared to do so. “I’ll be able to go to classes tomorrow morning.”

“Anything else we can help you with?” Sirius asked.

Remus shrugged.

“I brought _Hogwarts, a History_ in case you want to read up for the next lesson. Although Merlin knows why anyone would, unless they’re looking to be bored to death,” said James, handing the large tome to Remus. Remus accepted the book with a smile that revealed that he probably would risk boring himself to death tonight.

Peter stared from James to Sirius to Remus. James was relieved and hopeful and putting everything that had happened behind them. Peter could see it all, every nuance that thrived underneath his forcefully chipper exterior. Sirius Peter couldn't read at all. Perhaps didn't want to, either. And Remus, Remus was like Remus was. Coping in the face of the world turning against him, yet again. It was a shame that he had to suffer, Peter thought, although he didn't reckon anyone should be surprised that Sirius had gone and self-destructed. To be fair to Sirius, he had come up with a spectacular way of ruining things, even by his standards.

“Three visitors! How do you always end up here? The patient needs rest! Away you pop, now, shoo.” Madam Pomfrey, having appeared from the depths of her office, had soon successfully herded them out of the Hospital Wing, even though James tried to use his best adult voice and explain what a great comfort the three of them were to Remus.

Peter sneaked a worried look at Sirius and caught James doing the same as they walked down the grand staircase. 

“Are you and Remus cool?” James asked finally, and Sirius looked up from his intent gazing of thin air. 

“We will be.”

“Is it true you’re a shirt-lifter, Black?” The voice shouting as they tried to cross the Entrance Hall sounded delighted in its maliciousness, like a thief letting loose a niffler in a jeweller’s shop. 

Peter gave Sirius a worried look, as did James who was reaching for his wand. Snape had been forced to keep quiet about Moony, but of course it made sense that he would try to get his revenge in some other way. Sirius seemed surprisingly unruffled by the shout and by the audience that was quickly gathering to watch. 

“Not if the man’s small and scaly and has the wit of a flobberworm. As a suggestion you could try a Cleansweep 2 or one of Kettleburn’s murtlaps.” Sirius paused for effect, but he was far from done. “You’d be punching well above your weight with either, but it’s worth a try if you’re feeling the spring weather in your bones.”

Peter sniggered happily although it was mostly drowned out by considerably louder laughter echoing from all sides. 

“Poor Wilkes,” James said loudly to Sirius, “you should’ve let him down more gently, look at that mug! Both ugly and distraught from the rejection. The murtlaps won’t have him if he can’t even give them a smile, you know.”

“Tarantallegra!” roared the seventh year, who was indeed looking upset, although Peter doubted that had anything to do with a genuine desire to have sex with Sirius. James ducked the spell all too easily (Peter had to fight the urge to start a round of applause) and the spell hit an unsuspecting third year Ravenclaw instead. Several of the other Slytherins present were digging out their wands, although Peter noted that it was mostly the 7th and the 5th years. James was fond of commenting that both of those years of Slytherins were already queuing up to become Death Eaters.

“Mr Wilkes!” It was Professor Flitwick, who had some problem getting through the crowd of significantly taller witches and wizards, especially since a pile of textbooks were floating in front of him in mid-air. “10 points from Slytherin, and detention with me tonight at 8. There are desks in my classroom that could do with a clean-up of all the pictures and messages that have been carved into them.”

Peter grinned broadly at Sirius, who grinned back. They had spent many a happy Charms lesson decorating the desks in Flitwick’s classroom with clever abuse of the people they didn’t like (mainly select Slytherins).

“Finite,” muttered James, barely looking at the dancing third year as he hit him with the counter curse. Then he raised his voice, not even bothering to check if Flitwick was still within earshot (which he was). “Sirius here will be stationed in the broom cupboard next to Gervaise the Gormless after 8, available to all moderately good-looking and/or witty individuals. The good news, boys, is that he’s good at snogging, as all your fellow witches will be able to confirm. The bad news is that there’s going to be even more competition to get a quick tumble with him, seeing as he’s branching out to all genders.”

Here Sirius jumped on top of him to make him stop talking, and Peter was falling about laughing, both embarrassed with and enjoying the spotlight. There were lots of joking shouts of “see you at eight!” and “I’ll bring mints, Black!” and little Professor Flitwick could be heard squeaking “really, now, behave everyone!” and then the throng of people began to disperse. 

“Stop fighting me, you prick, you should be thanking me!”

“I don’t need any sodding help to get laid, Prongs!”

“Reckon we should take the cloak tonight and see if anyone shows up in the broom cupboard by Gervaise’s statue?” Peter asked excitedly. 

“Why would we do that? Want to have a go with a wizard yourself, is that it?”

Peter shuddered involuntarily, then realized, from the look James gave him, that this was in bad form. Fortunately Sirius, like usual, wasn’t paying any attention to what he was doing.

“I say we give Wilkes a proper seeing-to, as he expressed his interest so admirably. If Wormtail causes a commotion, you and I can sneak into the Charms classroom under the cloak and give him a nice hexing.”

“Yes, that’s brilliant mate!” James beamed happily at Sirius. 

“What sort of a commotion?” Peter asked worriedly.

“I dunno, smash a vase to lure Flitwick away? You can turn into a rat at will, you know, it's not as if we're asking you to get caught.”

That was true, of course, Peter did have a most impeccable disguise. The other two had stopped teasing him silly for his animagus form after Remus had pointed out that when inside the castle, Peter was the one with the best animal alter ego. It had made Peter feel a hitherto unknown amassment of pride in his abilities, as he had at first been painfully aware of how useless the rat was during the full moon (although, as Remus did frequently point out, Peter was useful when getting to the knot at the Whomping Willow. Sirius, being much less nice, had insisted that they could just as easily use a well-aimed branch or even a rock to get the tree to stop moving). 

“Actually, Padfoot, d’you think we could lure a few murtlaps up to the Charms corridor? Wilkes did look fit to burst, seeing a potential mate might help him out? Murtlaps squeal something terrific when you poke them, I’m sure Peter can do that outside the classroom?”

“Yeah alright,” Peter said, acknowledging the superiority in James’s plan. 

“Now if that’s all, I’m going to have a smoke,” Sirius continued. Even Peter noticed that his voice sounded gruff, and James gave his best friend a look of the utmost concern.

“It’s dinner time,” Peter pointed out.

Sirius didn’t even deign him with a look before he stormed out through the front doors.


	62. Rebel souls, deserters we are called

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chapter title from "Bad Company" by Bad Company.

Sirius rounded a corner, keeping to the outer castle wall. He was walking away from the Greenhouses and the grounds that stretched towards the Black Lake and Hagrid’s hut and the Forbidden Forest. Nobody had much reason to walk this way, and Sirius could really do with some alone time. 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Sirius came to an abrupt halt in front of his brother. Regulus was swaddled in his winter cloak and looked just toasty. Sirius scowled at him, but his brother knew him too well to respond to it as a threat.

“Fag?” Sirius asked reluctantly, pulling out a scruffy packet of cigarettes. 

Regulus frowned as if he had said something loaded, and even gave Sirius a searching look.

Sirius got one out and put the packet back in his pocket without waiting any longer for a reply. The ciggy was almost bent in half, poor thing, but Sirius lit it anyway and sucked intently on it. It had stopped feeling like something was burning in his lungs when he smoked, and he privately counted it as one of his greatest accomplishments so far in 1976. 

“So,” Sirius continued reluctantly, because he was always the bigger talker out of the two, “you’re all alone today.”

Regulus raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I needed a breather from James and the others,” Sirius said.

“I got tired of listening to Snape,” Regulus volunteered. 

Sirius sighed theatrically and flicked some ash to the side.

“Thought I’d get some air,” Regulus continued with a sniff, “ _fresh_ air.”

“Fresh air through a filter for me,” Sirius muttered, which was something a muggle girl had jokingly said to him once. Regulus did not appear to appreciate the quip. 

“I get the feeling that Snape isn’t sticking to the truth,” Regulus continued, “especially seeing as your mate Potter apparently got a ridiculous amount of house points for some perceived ‘bravery’ last night.”

Sirius wasn’t interested in hearing what Snape’s version of events might be. He could go fuck himself. Sirius was also quite certain that Peter was the one who had decided to tell people that it was James who had won Gryffindor the surprising amount of house points overnight, but he absolutely had no interest in telling his little brother any of that. 

“Something tells me you’re involved, too,” Regulus continued quietly.

He wasn’t the clever one, never had been, but Sirius supposed there was a base cunning to any snake.

“Snape’s a dickhead,” Sirius said with a shrug and blew some smoke to the side. 

“He’s doing his best to tarnish your reputation,” Regulus said quietly, “which I might have told you as a warning, in another life. In this life, you’ve already ruined your reputation irrevocably all by your pretty little self.”

“You must know I’ve never cared about other people’s opinions of me,” Sirius said. ‘Bar James’s’, his brain added, and a beat later, with an awful pang, ‘maybe Remus’s, too’.

“I do know,” Regulus said. “Too well, I sometimes think. It broke mother’s heart, you know.”

“If you knew what she…” Sirius bit his tongue, then raised his suddenly trembling hand to have another drag on his fag. It was almost finished. “She never had one,” he continued, voice stronger even though there was a parentally-shaped hollow quickly filling with a familiar brand of anger within him.

Regulus stared attentively at him, purposefully stretching an awful moment out, Sirius thought. Waiting to see if he’d let it get to him.

“If that’s where you stand…” Regulus said finally, and something in him seemed to both sadden and relax. 

“Of course it is,” Sirius replied impatiently. “But you do see that you needn’t turn into one of them because I left, don’t you? You’re a better man than our father, and as for mother, her one redeeming quality might be that she’s not a man, whatever the size of her bollocks may suggest.”

“You still haven’t even realized what leaving means, have you?” Regulus said. “It means goodbye, Sirius. It means good riddance. She may never love me like she loved you, but once she’s feeling like herself again, I know she’ll try. And _I_ won’t disappoint her, or him.”

“She never-”

“Oi Sirius, can I bum a fag?”

Sirius looked up from the burning bridge in front of his eyes and saw Marlene jogging towards them. Regulus looked a bit like someone had hit him in the back of the head, but quickly found himself and stalked off with his cloak swishing behind him. 

“That your brother?” Marlene asked curiously as she made it to him. 

“Once upon a time,” Sirius said, loud and dramatic to make her laugh. She smiled, but she didn’t look that amused.

“Cheers,” she said when he handed her a lit cigarette, taking another one for himself as well.

“I heard you gave Lambeth what he deserved, finally,” Sirius said. “Curious about one thing, though, what happened to you not believing in anything getting resolved with violence?”

“He’s taken one too many bludgers to the head to be able to talk things through like an adult,” Marlene explained with a smirk, “actually, I got _such_ a thrill from punching him. Should’ve done it as soon as his ego began spewing bullshit over me.”

“I unsurprisingly agree,” Sirius said. “Although it has been brought to my attention, recently, that getting back at people isn’t always the answer it might appear to be in the heat of the moment.”

“Look at mummy’s little star, all grown up,” Marlene cooed, but she turned serious almost straight away. “Someone’s made rather a mess of your tiny, shrivelled-up cold black heart, haven’t they?”

Sirius found himself blinking rather rapidly and with no answer to give.

“I can tell,” Marlene told him in an undertone, answering the question he couldn’t ask, “I still know how to read you. And I’m sorry she did this to you, but _what were you thinking_?”

Sirius shook his tired head, because apparently Marlene couldn’t quite read him like an open book, after all. His lungs felt heavy with smoke.

“I get why it’s hot, going after someone forbidden,” Marlene continued quietly. “Hell, if Professor Glass was offering, I’d jump him.”

Sirius huffed out a shocked laugh that made him cough.

“… But, still, even I know you can’t give your heart to people like that.”

Marlene angled her face to try to get him to meet her eyes, and Sirius wondered if his mind had ever been a more difficult place.

“Ah,” she said. “I see, now.”

Sirius looked up and frowned at her, wondering if this was still a pun concerning the Divination Professor. 

“You didn’t even know that you had a heart to give.”

Sirius swore as the cigarette butt burnt his fingers and he dropped it on the wet ground. Marlene took an unbothered draught on hers, then let it fall to the ground and stamped it reflexively with the heel of her boot. Sirius stuck his hands into his pockets to warm them up and then happened to look over Marlene’s shoulder.

“Here comes my real brother,” Sirius said, and Marlene looked back.

“Oi Potter! Have you finally come to reclaim your charge?”

James grinned like a madman, and Sirius returned it, which made James skip a few times, looking more and more like a gangly juvenile deer the closer he got.

“I’ll go see if there’s some dinner left,” Marlene said and gave Sirius a clap on his shoulder before she walked off. When she passed James, she stuck a leg out and almost managed to trip him up. James skidded to an ungraceful halt by grabbing hold of Sirius’s arms.

“I went past the kitchens and got you a steak and kidney pie!”

“Lucky me,” Sirius said and watched his best mate dig up a severely squashed pie from his pocket. As soon as he tucked in, he realized that he was hungry after all. He made a content noise and James beamed as if this was the best repayment possible. He blabbered on about murtlaps and obscure charms he’d read about that could potentially be placed on broomsticks, but twice Sirius caught him with a piercing, all-knowing look. An omnipotent deer with glasses.

“You did a shitty thing to Moony,” James said when the entirety of the pie had reached its destination and was attempting to settle within the confines of Sirius’s stomach. 

Sirius quenched down a burp together with the impulse to argue, knew James could see it as it arose, see it as it was swallowed back down. He met James’s eye and nodded once.

“Cigarette?” he asked perfunctory, keeping his voice as level as he could. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a three-fags-in-a-row sort of night, but here he was.

“Go on, then,” James said, and Sirius did a double take. He was rarely surprised, and never by James. Almost never.

“Just don’t tell our Pete,” James continued with a wry grin and accepted the cigarette he was handed. 

“You’re worried because Peter Pettigrew might disapprove of you smoking?”

“I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine,” James said conspiratorially, in what for him passed as a whisper. It was quite loud. 

“Deal,” Sirius whispered back. 

James coughed up a storm over his fag, and somehow, while Sirius was attempting to hit him on the back to help, they ended up with their arms around each other. Sirius would never, ever admit to anyone that he needed that, but then his secrets were safe with James. He’d never have to tell anyone at all.


	63. Life's been good to me so far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Life's been good" by Joe Walsh.

James felt like today had gone well, all things considered. They had managed to convince Remus, in the end, that they weren’t leaving him, same as they had had to in first year after they had told him they had guessed the nature of his furry little problem. And now, thought James, teetering as they were on the edge of sweet sixteen, they perchance possessed a soupcon more tact than what they did at eleven, which Remus had no doubt noticed and appreciated. 

And as for Sirius, well… James had a feeling that that petrol-smelling, liquor-soaked leathery heart of his might just have taken the biggest hit it had ever taken. Bigger than watching his little brother get sorted behind enemy lines, bigger than what the child who had found itself locked in its bedroom with a sadistic adult cousin for company had. Certainly bigger than whenever it was he felt he had lost his parents had happened. 

James wondered how many years it would take for his best friend to understand that it was heartbreak he felt. 

Nobody was dead, waiting for execution, not on speaking terms, or expelled, so what were two broken hearts in comparison? This could all have gone a lot worse.

James and Sirius finished their cigarettes (James barely smoked half of his, what a filthy habit) and jogged off in sync underneath the cloak. In the castle they usually had to tip-toe, or at least walk with some care, but outside when darkness was beginning to set, they could be as quick as they liked and even show a daring hint of ankle if they fancied it.

Wilkes would be starting his detention soon, and James was itching to get back at him for trying to shame Sirius like he had. Kettleburn kept magical creatures all over the place, but they knew where the murtlaps were. When they rounded the greenhouses, they got an unexpected eyeful of naked arse.

“Bathsheba Burke,” Sirius informed James in a confident whisper as they continued jogging, trainers slipping a little on the muddy path but managing to stay close all the same. 

“Yuck,” James whispered back, although that was perhaps a bit unfair considering she hadn’t asked for his opinion on her behind. Still, Slytherins were Slytherins, even though she was a sixth year, the year even most Gryffindors could agree contained some decent people. James didn’t catch who she was with, either.

The glorified shed Kettleburn had claimed for his protégés was between the greenhouses and the lake. There were two separate enclosures outsides for show and tell, and a patch nearby was in a perpetual state of burnt, grass gone and refusing to grow and the ground still smouldered faintly, although whatever incident had taken place there had happened before James and the others started school. It was rumoured that the melee had involved Kettleburn and a manticore, although some spoke of a baby Welsh Green that had threatened to set the whole castle on fire. 

They stopped as one, sensing the protective enchantments. Sirius had turned into a dog before James could suggest it, and the huge black thing trotted self-assuredly towards the little shed, which, as both boys knew, was not so little on the inside. 

“Alohomora,” James said quietly, and the door clicked open. The dog strolled in, tail wagging leisurely. There were several surprised squawks, some purring and the distinct voice of a jarvey swearing. Then Padfoot exited, carrying one murtlap carefully in his jaws and one sitting atop his back. They both looked surprisingly content, the weird marine growths on their backs flapping gently although it was not a windy day. James lifted the one riding on the dog into his arms and Sirius transformed swiftly and held onto the second one as he stepped back underneath the cloak. 

They cast a ‘silencio’ each, although it was possible that the spells wouldn’t have much effect on the magical creatures, as most were difficult even for wizards of their calibre to charm or hex. The door to the shed clicked shut with the aid of James’s wand and then they walked back to the castle, stopping only for a quick breaking and entering of the shed that contained old school brooms, before ultimately reaching the Charms corridor. 

They were met by Wormtail the rat who was sitting on his hind-legs and sniffing interestedly in the air (whether he could smell food from the kitchens all the way up here, or whether he could smell the two of them, invisible though they were, was impossible to say). James stuck out a hand and waved, and Peter turned back into a boy, still sniffing into thin air (food it was, then). Peter was handed one of the murtlaps, which James hastened to remove the silencing charm from. James flung his arm clumsily around Sirius, waving at Peter’s retreating back like a proud parent watching his firstborn going away on the Hogwarts Express, while Sirius leaned into him and rocked the remaining murtlap in the cradle of his arms. They were still hidden by the cloak. 

Ruining the calm, stony silence of the castle at night-time were the torturous screeching noises from a murtlap, and terrified yelps from Peter. The noises were coming from the classroom at the end of the corridor. They didn’t have to wait long until the door to Flitwick’s classroom swung open and the tiny professor stepped out, wand held aloft and casting a bright light into the dimness of the corridor. 

“I’ll be right back,” the tiny man squeaked into the room he had just exited, and then he stalked off, tiny lacquered shoes pattering on the stone floor. 

With their usual combination of brilliance, James and Sirius got the murtlap to stick to the Cleansweep 2 they had borrowed for the occasion, and with a tricky spell James knew only because he was an utter and self-proclaimed quidditch nerd, he got the broom to fly unaided into the classroom, the riding murtlap whooping and its tentacles wagging disconcertingly around it. 

They had to reposition themselves for James to maintain the correct course for the broom, and soon they had an excellent view of Wilkes, sitting in a desk at the front with soapy water and a sponge, now complete with a loud and increasingly hysterical murtlap soaring around him on a jinxed broom. Wilkes was digging wildly through his robes for his wand, yelping whenever the broom got close enough for the tentacles to flap across his face, but Flitwick had probably confiscated his wand for the duration of the detention and there was nothing much he could do. The wild movements soon tipped the jug of soapy water over, and as luck would have it most of it splashed over Wilkes’s lap. James had a feeling his best mate’s wand might have had something to do with it. Wilkes was stumbling out of his desk, and a swift tripping jinx later he landed in a wet heap on the floor, spluttering and swearing. They could hear Flitwick’s voice and footsteps, and James let the broom come crashing down across Wilkes’s backside, murtlap and all.

“Careful where you stuff the broom now, it may have splinters,” Sirius whispered into the classroom, and then they were off, moving oh so quietly and carefully as Flitwick was literally just steps away from his classroom. He was holding the first murtlap protectively in his arms, stroking it over its tentacles, and he seemed to be whispering sweet nothings to it to calm it down. Whatever had happened with Peter seemed to have been traumatizing for all parties involved. When Flitwick was inside his classroom both boys began running as one, and they took the first corner at a sharp swerve. They could hear Flitwick shouting after their footsteps, but of course his tiny legs were no match for two fit teenagers with an invisibility cloak.

When they reached Gryffindor tower and the Common Room, Peter was already there. He was sweating profusely, having presumably run all the way as a rat, and he showed them the tiny toothmarks on his index finger where the murtlap had seen fit to bite him. 

“Then I dropped it, and it yelled, and I got scared – I mean not scared, but I turned, and then it tried to eat me!” Peter’s eyes were full of reproach as they laughed and laughed, plenty of other students were turning their way, trying to figure out what they had done this time.

“It tried to _eat me_!” Peter repeated, now quite loudly as he was still expecting a different reaction once the true nature of his situation had registered with them. 

“This is priceless,” Sirius laughed into his ear, he was holding onto James’s shoulder to stay upright, and James, in turn, now had to hold onto Peter to make sure they didn’t both topple.

“Did someone actually show up in that broom cupboard, Sirius?” It was Azalea, Dotty and Marlene, and all were eyeing them curiously. James barely found the strength to look around hopefully to see if Lily was anywhere nearby (she wasn’t).

“I really wouldn’t know,” Sirius told them brightly, almost strangling James in their ongoing quest to stay upright, “but I think Wilkes may lose his virginity tonight.”

“What a disgusting thought! He has the sort of face only the mother of a mountain troll could love.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as ‘love’”, James snorted, “it’s more that he might wake up tomorrow with splinters in his bum and his mouth tasting of semi-domesticated marine life.”

Peter’s legs gave out and all three ended up in a squirming heap in front of the girls.


	64. Trying not to be sick again, and holding on for tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "For Tomorrow" by Blur.

“Remus, love!”

Remus, reclining on the bed closest to the windows in the Hospital Wing, turned his head so fast there was a real danger of it ending up the wrong way round on his neck.

“Ouch.” 

It was Sunday night and Madam Pomfrey had decided to not release him until next morning before breakfast. He hadn’t even argued with her about being released earlier like he normally would have done. Between the numbness and the despair and the guilty flicker of hope that things might just go back to normal if he let them, he was of the opinion that there had been plenty of human interaction today already. An evening with the other Marauders had, for perhaps the first time ever, not seemed like the preferred way to spend his evening. 

The voice that had shouted his name did not belong to Madam Pomfrey, and neither did the slender figure wrapped in several overlarge woolly jumpers jogging his way. A second, larger figure was following at a more hesitant pace.

“Mum!” he croaked, suddenly feeling the elation and relief much in the same way as he would have a complete breakdown. He had shed as many tears as he could already today, but he was certain he looked miserable enough anyway. 

“Oh, my darling,” his mother was telling him, almost getting down on his hospital bed to be able to hug him properly. Hugs, Remus immediately decided, were the best healing spells of them all. With his face buried in his mother’s jumper he still felt the pat on the arm he got from a hand that was careful to the point you might have thought it reluctant.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I’m going to have a word with the matron, if you’ll excuse me.”

Remus and his mother both made a small, almost identical noise to signal that they had heard Remus’s father, who quickly stalked off back where he’d come from, leaving them alone. 

“Your Professor McGonagall came through our fireplace,” Hope explained, an excitement in her voice that helped melt some of the icy mess away from around Remus’s insides. “She said we might come visit you after curfew if we liked, and here we are. She had to put me under some heavy spells to bring me here, and truth be told I’ve been suffering from a splitting headache ever since. But I can see your whole school, Remus, this whole castle! Isn’t it fantastic? How lucky you children are to come here to learn. To live here, together, in a place like this.”

“It is pretty great,” Remus admitted and found, to his relief, that he didn’t have to think about that one. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. But have you – I mean, did Professor McGonagall tell you what happened?”

Hope finally sat down properly on the visitor’s chair next to Remus’s bed. Her face was deeply wrinkled despite the fact that she wasn’t yet forty, and her hair looked thin and fragile; backlit like now Remus could see the clear outline of her scalp. Her eyes glittered in time with the lamp behind her. Remus watched her face attentively but found nothing negative in it. Just the overpoweringly sweet, playful goodness he had taken for granted was the role of mothers, had believed made up every mother until he got to Hogwarts and learned that he was one of the lucky ones. Had been told stories by the two of his three friends who had grown up with mothers of completely different calibres.

“She did, yes. A long-time feud between your mates and a rather lonely and bigoted boy, is how she put it. She said your – friend - Sirius, rather let his mouth run away with him, although it sounds as if he made a misguided attempt to protect you.”

“We’re barely friends, now.”

Hope nodded, her eyes full of understanding and very little else.

“I guessed you’d react like that. And James saved the day, I hear. I can’t say that part surprised me, he has always struck me as just the type to pull off heroic rescues of damsels in distress, and the rest of it. I seem to remember that his birthday is later in the month, I’ll have to send a card.”

“ _Damsels in_ -”

“I don’t believe it’s an unkindness to you, love, to say that you do have a certain vibe about you…”

Remus choked on something that oozed of confusion and indignation, and Hope didn’t bother to hide her teasing smile.

“And as for that other unfortunate boy who was looking to get you lot expelled… Your Professor seems to think that James targets him an unfair bit, but I think James’s actions scream of a ‘saving people’ complex, for lack of a better word. This Snape boy simply sounds like another little damsel, to me.”

Remus stared at his mother in shock, brain twice as slow to make sense of everything as it normally was.

“You’re talking about this as if it’s all a joke! I could have _killed_ -”

“Not with friends like these on your side, you couldn’t.”

“Friends?” Remus repeated stupidly. 

“Yes, not just one, but several. As your mother, I of course know better than anyone how lucky they are to have you in their lives. These events, as traumatic as they first appear, have proven to me once and for all that you have found real friends. Friends who will help you when you need them, who will hopefully accept your help in return when you see that they need it from you.”

“They don’t have problems like mine,” Remus mumbled. 

“You sure about that?” 

“Yes!”

“Not every problem has the name of a mythical creature attached to it, you know.”

It was one of those rare times when Remus found it impossible to understand her point of view. Maybe he was too tired to do so, the fright and the guilt and the sudden rush of relief as he found that what he had feared had not happened at all. Nobody was mauled or cursed, and his mother had not changed the way she was with him in the slightest.

“Monster,” he mumbled underneath his breath, but then, louder, to stop the beginning of a frown on his mother’s brow, he said: “My furry little problem. That’s what James calls it.”

“Our furry little problem,” his mother said softly, lips moving as though she was trying to taste the words, feel her way around the expression. Her eyes were smiling already, though.

Remus pulled awkwardly at his curly hair, cheeks reddening, and then immediately regretted his actions as his mother’s eyes finally showed real worry.

“Darling, your poor fingers, I should’ve brought along that salve I got from the pharmacy…”

Remus scrambled for his wand, which James had brought along from the dormitory.

“ _Salvacute_ ,” he mumbled, pointing at his left hand. His skin healed immediately, leaving a warm, slightly wet sensation in his fingertips. He switched his wand to his other hand and repeated the spell.

“That’s a new one,” Hope said.

“Sirius found it for me,” Remus said, and found that his voice wobbled more than he would like.

Hope gave him a knowing look, and Remus could see that she thought he had proven her point.

“How are _you_ feeling-” Remus began, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of guilt that he hadn’t asked her immediately. Lyall chose that exact moment to reappear, however, and he put one of his large hands on his wife’s shoulder. His index finger was missing, it was one that had been bitten off by a particularly vicious Grindylow during a pesticide job Lyall had carried out in Loch Ness. 

“It’s close to midnight, and we need to head back.”

“The thing!” Hope said eagerly, smacking Lyall over the knuckles. “The nugget! Where is it?”

“Ah,” Lyall mumbled awkwardly and began digging through the pockets of his thin winter coat. It was so thin, in fact, that Remus could see the shape of all that was in his pockets. He could see a quill and a bottle that was shaped like one containing ink, there was something that might have been a packet of cigarettes and a muggle lighter, there was his wand and an amulet shaped like a bulbous garlic he had received from one of his clients. And there was something solid and round and rather large as well…

Lyall pulled it out in a gesture that would have been triumphant had it come from anyone else. From Lyall, it somehow looked meek and almost apologetic. It glimmered, beautiful and golden and fat between his fingers, and he deposited it carefully onto Remus’s lap.

“Happy birthday!” his parents said in chorus, Lyall quiet but Hope brim-full with enthusiasm. 

A single gold galleon lay on Remus’s lap, and he picked it up with some reverence. 

“You shouldn’t have,” he began, feeling his cheeks turn hot. 

“Nonsense,” Hope said immediately. “I’m sure your friends have planned something fun for you, maybe take you out to the lovely magical village nearby the two of you have told me so much about. I want you to buy yourself something nice, a treat, just for you.”

“Students aren’t allowed into the village except on special weekends, Hope,” Remus’s father said.

“And they all stick to the rules?” Hope said, sounding rather astonished.

“I should hope so,” Lyall said. Remus gave his mother an apologetic and grateful look while she sent him a rather obvious wink in return. Lyall wasn’t looking at either one of them, but then he rarely did. 

“It’s been lovely seeing you, Remus,” Hope said, bending down to hug him, long and tight. “I would love to stay, but my head truly does feel like it’s beginning to split down the middle.”

“Will you be alright?” Remus asked, tried to put all of his questions into one.

“I will if you will,” she said, sounding much too cheerful. “And after seeing this place, after hearing more about your friends, I truly believe you will be.”

Lyall came up to him next, bending awkwardly as if preparing to hug, but then changing his mind at the last minute and giving his son another pat on the shoulder instead. He looked troubled, as if convinced that what he had seen, what these events had conveyed to him, was the complete opposite of what his wife had taken from them. 

“I will see you in the summer,” he said, and Remus’s chest constricted terribly from the pronoun alone. 

His parents began to walk away, and Remus could see Madam Pomfrey waiting for them by the door to the hospital wing, ready to lead them away so that they could floo, or maybe apparate back to Wales.

Hope turned, at the very last minute, to give him a final look. She looked perfect, in that moment, not just the perfect mother but the perfect human. She mouthed something to Remus, but it wasn’t “I love you” or “I’ll miss you”. It was “Have fun!”, and Remus decided that he would have to try, now.


	65. If it wasn't for your misfortune I'd be a heavenly person today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Blue Monday" by New Order.

They caught Remus just as he was closing the door to the Hospital Wing, the early morning light adding a layer of wintery melancholy to further burden him with. He looked bone-tired, his overlarge robes sagging around his shoulders more than usual and his skin pallid enough that the freckles were a bit of an eyesore. 

James did what he could to rectify the visuals, and a few spells later there was a glittery ball of confetti exploding above Remus’s uncombed head, while the noise of an invisible orchestra ground into gear and began with a loud and not completely in tune rendition of “Happy Birthday”. 

“Remus, my man!” James shouted over the noise of an overexcited trumpet. “Our most revered tea-drinker, crumpet-eater, Kafka-reader, museum-goer and all around plonker…”

He and Peter got to Remus (who was looking both pleased, tired and bewildered) at the same time and hugged him, Peter from the front and James from the back.

“Happy birthday, Moony!” Peter squeaked over Remus’s shoulder and into James’s face, accompanied by a wayward accordion that had started on a second verse all on its own.

“Happy birthday!” James echoed, giving Remus’s middle a squeeze and then trying to find a nipple to pinch to get him in the mood for his big day (in case the resounding orchestra hadn’t already done the job).

“Happy birthday, mate,” Sirius chimed in, his strong arms wrapping around James and Peter and his nose pressing into Remus’s ear. 

Remus made a noise that made him sound like an indignant badger, and James assumed this was a reaction to having his nipple fondled this early in the morning. 

“You’re older than me,” James told him earnestly and a little accusingly. He always thought of himself as the leader of the pack, which in his book meant it should show in his date of birth as well. Both Sirius and Remus had been born before him, though, and there didn’t seem to be anything James could do to rectify the situation.

“I – Yeah. Thanks, thank you for remembering.” 

If Remus was going to flounder like this, James would have to put those famed leadership qualities into play. 

“Stop being a soft knobhead, Moony. Now, we have a packed programme today. Lads, it’s time to uncouple, if you will... Steady on now, that’s my wand.”

Sirius had to let go first, then Peter, and after that James took it upon himself to give Remus’s chest a final, suggestive squeeze, just because he was a bit excited and Remus still looked uncertain about the existence of his own feet (he wasn’t looking up from them, at any rate), let alone the rest of him. 

“The itinerary is as follows,” James continued, slinging an arm around Remus’s shoulders and beginning to lead him away, “chocolate cake for breakfast in the kitchens. Then, we’ll go to Charms and to Transfiguration, because we reckon you’ll mope if we don’t. We’ve decided History of Magic can fuck right off though, especially as you’ve already read the bloody material like the stuffy little prefect you are. And you’ll be pleased to hear we know exactly how to get all four of us out of Potions; said plan has already been set in motion. So, as you can see, we’ve freed up the entirety of the afternoon. We’ve got a table booked for four at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and then we’ll get back to the dorms and get shitfaced.”

There was clearly an internal struggle playing havoc with the birthday boy, and James had already begun formulating ways of convincing him that resistance against marauding today was futile, when Remus gave him a small smile, which he also extended to Peter, who was walking just behind James. His eyes, when they hit Sirius, became filled with something complicated, and he looked quickly back at James.

“Thank you for this. All of you. I really appreciate what the four of us have, that we’re all…” 

“Stuff it, Moony!” James said immediately. “You’re just tired of being the only one of us who blushes. Trying to make us embarrassed by singing our lofty praises, trying desperately to see if we’ll go so far as to impersonate tomatoes for you. We can see right through your ruse, you know. We like you a lot, obviously, but turning into vegetables is where we draw the line, innit right, lads?”

Remus was smiling rather broadly now, and his eyes looked happy despite the deep grooves around them and the dramatic shadows underneath. Peter was nodding frantically along to everything James said.

“For you, I’d consider something in the fruit kingdom,” Sirius drawled, which made James cackle. “Think I could pull off the complexion of a Granny Smith, me. Wouldn’t stoop to a vegetable, though, Prongs is right. We all have more self-respect than that.”

“That’s a bold claim, especially from you,” Remus said. He could have said it cuttingly, but he didn’t, and James could feel the foreign tension leaving their little group like it had been Vanished. 

“Let’s see who can eat the most chocolate cake at eight in the morning,” James said excitedly. “My money’s on Peter, although the birthday boy does look half-starved. What has Pomfrey been feeding you?”

“Mostly porridge,” Remus said. “Not sure chocolate cake for breakfast is the solution if we’re looking to better my diet.”

“Your birthday is about many things, Remus. We’re certainly looking to better your diet, but we’d be aiming rather low if that was all we had planned for today.”

Remus looked as if he was beginning to dread the rest of the day, and James made the executive decision to not tell him any of the fine print. They found themselves in the kitchens in no time, and James was relieved to note that it all felt as usual. Usual as in what things had been a month ago, anyway, the way things had been before James had overheard Sirius and Remus in the shower. That memory would haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt, and he thought that it might haunt Sirius and Remus too, although for different reasons. He caught both of them looking at the other with eyes that lingered more than what just a strict friendship would allow for, although both managed to look away before the other noticed.

The chocolate cake was a piece of art, and Remus rightly looked as if he was in awe when they first set eyes on it. James had given the house elves very thorough instructions, and they had unsurprisingly been eager to please. 

“Thank you so much,” Remus mumbled every time a house elf got within hearing distance, and their high-pitched voices sounded equally as grateful as Remus’s. 

The cake had several tiers, all loaded with several inches of chocolate ganache, and the filling was banana and cream. James was certain it, at the very least, would counter whatever health effects the porridge had had on Remus. Remus could absolutely do with a bit of fattening up.

“Bony little thing, aren’t you,” James said affectionately, and then he had to duck as Remus threw a forkful of cake in his direction (Remus had shit aim, so it wasn’t much of a threat). Peter ate the most cake, in the end, and he privately confessed to James that he’d eaten so much he ended up with a tummy ache that lasted him all the way through Transfiguration.

Charms and Transfiguration were excruciatingly slow classes that day, and James was told off no fewer than eight times by Flitwick, McGonagall and Mary Macdonald for being disruptive. That was nothing compared to what happened just as Slughorn began his double class in the afternoon, but of course the Marauders weren’t there themselves to watch the spectacle unfold. It involved a disillusioned crate on a timer dropping from the ceiling, several muggle water pistols running amok, a livid Mrs Tattler who sharpened her claws on many, many ankles, and a mysterious powder which when inhaled made humans grow downy feathers that they were later reliably told were very itchy, perhaps because they grew out in the general area of the students’ and the professor’s midriffs. 

By that point the Marauders had already eaten their way through a Ploughman’s lunch at the Three Broomsticks, two of them had flirted (read annoyed) Madam Rosmerta until she suggested they all leave, and eventually walked back through the shortest of their secret passageways. Another detour to the kitchen later (even though Remus kept saying he wouldn’t need to eat for another day or so) and they were back in the dormitory, the floor around James’s and Remus’s beds covered in stacks of food (mainly crumpets, crisps and chocolate frogs, also known as Moony’s mundane trinity of c’s). 

“Presents!” Peter squealed eagerly. He had sat himself with Remus on Remus’s bed, while Sirius had joined James on his. 

“Today has been plenty already,” Remus began, sounding anxious, “I didn’t even pay for…”

“ _Shut up_!” James and Sirius shouted in chorus, and Peter got his wand out and shouted “accio chocolate frogs!”

Around twenty frogs from the floor, as well as five from Peter’s trunk, soared up on Remus’s bed and both boys had to cover their heads as they all lost speed at the same time and pelted them like sweet amphibian missiles. 

“I got you more frogs,” Peter said redundantly, and Remus beamed at him as though this was the best thing ever. 

“I do like chocolate,” he said, and James exchanged an amused look with Sirius.

“This is from me,” Sirius said and he got out a pouch from his pocket and flung it elegantly towards Remus. It landed with a clink precisely in Remus’s lap. James recognized what it was immediately, and he shot Sirius a worried look.

Remus began to frown as he fumbled with it, then upended it in front of him over the covers. James counted sixteen galleons, which meant Sirius had kept two for himself from what Euphemia had sent him.

“I can’t accept this, Sirius.”

“Course you can,” Sirius said sharply. “I was going to buy you new robes and shoes and things, but I thought you’d be offended, so I didn’t. Now you can buy whatever you need yourself instead, pick out what you like.”

James looked between Sirius and Remus. He wasn’t always that sharp when it came to social cues, but he knew from previous experience that Remus was touchy about money. Sirius should know this as well. Peter was staring at the gold with open envy, and Remus looked hurt, there was no other word for it. 

“Bit much, eh mate?” James said airily and ruffled Sirius’s hair in a way he knew he hated. “Now Remus, I’ve gone all creative this year. Behold…”

James dug into his trunk, triumphantly coming up with two muggle plastic bags. Remus had put the galleons away, which was a relief, but James noted that Peter was continuously staring at the pouch they were in, now on the floor with the food. 

“One of these is just normal weed, the other is Adam. Oh, and I drew you a card.”

“Thanks, Prongs,” Remus said, attempting and failing to catch James’s gifts as they were tossed in his direction. He smiled at the card James had drawn (colourful stickmen representing the Marauders, but they moved and James was very proud of them) and then he turned his attention to the two bags of carefully ground-up drugs. 

“This is a lot, Prongs, good heavens. But it’s all for sharing, of course. I didn’t even know that Adam was – ripe.”

“We had to slaughter him, tell Moony what he did to you in the night-time, Peter?”

“Oh yeah,” Peter said uncomfortably. “Adam sort of… Well. I didn’t know he had teeth, for one. That came as a surprise, I think I still have little puncture wounds on the back of my knee. He sort of decided to escape his pot, climbed into my bed and…”

“Silly bugger,” James whispered into Sirius’s ear, hoping Remus couldn’t hear him. Sirius gave him a look that was doused in haughty poise and didn’t dignify it with a reply. 

“… and of course I overpowered him, in the end,” Peter finished, and he was pushing his chest out and looking around at the other three, clearly expecting praise. Remus was hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Let’s get stoned,” Sirius said.

“Hear, hear,” James concurred and dived back into his trunk to get papers and filters.


	66. I am the son and heir of nothing in particular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths.

The morning was a surprisingly easy one. Peter supposed it was because the four of them had started getting high and drunk unusually early. They had been absolutely steaming by six o’clock and had fallen asleep in a big bundle of gangly boy limbs and chocolate frog wrappers, all on James’s bed, before ten o’clock. By seven the next morning they were all up and about, and Remus had gotten over most of his awkwardness by the time they were seated at the Gryffindor table (he had woken up nestled into Sirius, both hands on Sirius’s bum). Not even James had come up with a suitable joke for the occasion.

Adam had been a good smoke, all four of them agreed, although as far as they could tell the difference between Adam and normal marijuana was marginal. Peter was fairly certain that normal weed did not raise the pitch of all voices by an octave, but the inability to stop laughing once you’d started might have been the effect of either. Remus had reluctantly agreed to test Adam out again the day before the next full moon, although James’s insistence that they would work tirelessly until they found a way to alleviate his symptoms also made Remus blush until he resembled a beetroot more than a tomato. 

With no hangovers to speak of, and Remus and Sirius seemingly having agreed to pretend that the past month had never happened, all four settled in comfortably to devour toast, marmalade, scrambled eggs and kippers. 

They rarely got to the Great Hall this early, except when they pulled all-nighters, and Peter looked around with interest as the four tables slowly filled with students, almost all of whom looked worse for wear than Peter felt. Lily and Mary walked past, looking as if they hadn’t slept a wink, muttering something about feathers and itching powder and how Madam Pomfrey had almost been in tears before finding a cure. Peter gave them both a sunny smile in return.

The owls arrived towards the end of breakfast, bringing Peter a dreaded letter from his mother, James the _Daily Prophet_ and Remus a very decent drawing from his mother (a frog, a sparrow, a bunny and a rat, all wearing conical muggle birthday hats). Peter reluctantly opened his letter, but he had barely begun to read it when James pushed the newspaper into his lap and gave him an unusually serious look. He jabbed his finger at a small notice in the corner of the paper. Peter looked around, first, but Sirius was busy stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs and Remus was smiling sadly at the picture from his mother. Peter read the headline, which was “Clerk at the Office for Magical Games and Sports convicted of domestic violence by the Wizengamot”.

Peter’s eyes suddenly swam with unwanted liquid, and he didn’t bother to check the name of the clerk. He knew instinctively that his mother wouldn’t have reported anything, which meant Rollo had moved on quickly. He pushed the paper back into James’s lap without being able to look into his face. He felt James’s arm around him, giving him a much-needed, one-armed hug. 

“None of us have very good fathers, do we?” Peter said out loud. To be honest, he couldn’t quite remember his own father’s face anymore. Maybe his voice, if he really strained his brain.

“Mine’s alright,” James said loyally. “But yeah, I get what you’re saying.”

“Mine’s a slimy tosser,” Sirius said. “And Moony’s dad is missing a finger, isn’t he? I’ve always meant to ask what happened?”

“Is he really missing a finger?” Peter asked, perking up as he filled with morbid curiosity. 

“I’ve told you he works with magical creatures, haven’t I? With… Well, with beasts and monsters and dark creatures, mainly. He’s been hurt many times in much more impressive ways, but the finger was actually bitten off by a Grindylow, after he mistakenly waded into a mating ritual between two of them. Took him by surprise, he said. The missing finger doesn’t make him a bad father, though, but all things considered I reckon Peter has a point.”

“I’d be a great father,” James said, looking around in a manner he probably thought was inconspicuous until he spotted Lily Evans. “I’d do everything, she could just sit back and relax. I’d stay up in the night and bottle feed it and change nappies and tell it bedtime stories…”

“Teach it how to fly on a broomstick,” Remus muttered.

“Point and laugh every time it falls off,” Sirius continued. “Yeah, you’d be a riot.”

“I’d be a great father,” James insisted.

“I think you’re right,” Peter told him earnestly and James beamed with pride. 

“I don’t want kids,” Sirius said.

“Me neither,” Remus said, although he looked a bit melancholy when he said it. All three turned expectantly to Peter.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I mean, we don’t have to decide yet, do we?”

“Since you’ve got only a marginally bigger chance than Snivellus of getting laid; no you don’t,” Sirius said maliciously. 

Peter thought about Pippa and tried to see where she was seated. He eventually found her at the other side of Gryffindor table, deep in conversation with her friend. Peter looked away reluctantly, cheeks growing pink as he considered it all, and then he noticed that Remus was looking at him with an amusedly raised eyebrow. Peter shovelled some more kippers onto his plate and focused on them for the rest of breakfast.

Herbology was a strained lesson because the Gryffindor girls seemed to blame the Marauders for the fact that they had all had to spend the entirety of the evening and part of the night in the Hospital Wing, together with the Slytherins. Apparently two of the Slytherins were still there. Rumour had it it was because the ornithophobia potion of old, combined with the itching powder with the new properties of feather growth had somehow ended up giving some students more serious side effects (there was a rumour Mulciber had last been seen perched on a hospital bed trying to peck his own feathers out), but Peter certainly didn’t feel bad about it, and he could tell from James’s and Sirius’s faces that they didn’t, either. Peter could see Remus send jealous looks in the direction of Sirius as he talked to Marlene over by one of the Fanged Geranium sticklings, presumably he was telling her about Moony’s birthday. Remus was spending most of his time sitting on his own hands, no doubt attempting to keep his fingers away from his teeth. Marlene seemed to forgive Sirius shortly, but then she wasn’t exactly known for moping around or for holding a grudge. Peter tried to be extra nice to Remus, and he noticed that James did the same, especially when Marlene began chasing a laughing Sirius around the Greenhouse, threatening to put fresh manure in his pants so that he would feel an approximation of the itch she and the other girls had dealt with last night. 

James used the moment everyone was looking at those two well by nicking a ceramic fwooper that had been placed as decoration in a pot with a particularly ugly grey plant Peter didn’t know the name of.

Defence Against the Dark Arts took an odd turn when Marlene said something uncharacteristically mean to Professor Scarborough and ended up with detention. Peter felt responsible without quite knowing why, and a look at Sirius told him that Sirius, too, was feeling troubled. James appeared oblivious, or if not he presumably thought that Sirius’s frown was on account of his own blunder with Snape and subsequent fallout with Remus. 

“Slytherin alert!” James whispered loudly into Sirius’s ear as they exited the classroom. The corridor was filled with people, and there were indeed Slytherins there, too. Peter drew back on instinct, and Remus did the same. He looked very unhappy, and Peter could see his hand twitch towards the pocket of his worn robes. 

James and Sirius sent off spell after spell into the general commotion. Both had good aim, better than good, really, and with the efficiency of centaurs wielding bows and arrows, they hit every single Slytherin in sight with spells that grew long purple nostril hair, elongated chins until they literally hit the floor, or changed hands into camel hooves. 

It was Lily Evans who stopped them in the end, and she was so livid with them she took twenty house points from each. Her anger apparently also extended to Remus, who she glared at for long enough that he shrank into the wall and tried to become one with an old tapestry of a self-stirring cauldron (the cross-stitched potion within began to spew white-hot sparks as soon as Remus got close and he had to receive dittany on his burns, afterwards.)

Over the general ruckus Peter spotted Pippa. She was giggling (as were most students who weren’t Slytherins) and their eyes met for a glorious two seconds. Peter could feel his heart swell and a hitherto unknown courage had him raising his arm and waving at her. He hit Sirius in the head by mistake (and had to duck the nostril hair hex as a result), but not before he saw her smile and raise a small, fine boned hand in return. Her friend Greta pulled her away the second after, but Peter’s day had already been made. He thrust his chest out, smiling so broadly that not even Lily’s anger (she was shouting something in their general direction) could penetrate it. 

“What are you going to do with all that money?” he asked Remus, sounding giddy rather than envious and actually meaning it. “If I were you, I’d buy some flowers for that nice Hufflepuff who likes you, ask her out on a date.”

He could feel Sirius freeze next to him, but he didn’t turn around to look.

“No,” Remus said quietly. “I don’t reckon anyone actually wants me. I’m converting that money to pounds, and I’m giving it to a muggle hospital to be used for cancer research.”

“Oh,” Peter said, happy bubble not quite popping, but it no longer felt quite so big and beautiful. “Right. Of course. That’s a much better idea, Moony.”

Sirius finally turned around, facing both Peter and Remus. Lily had somehow gotten hold of the ceramic model of a fwooper from James, and with an agitated shout she threw it straight at his head. He caught it with some difficulty (Peter could see a bit of blood on his finger from the impact) and she seemingly gave up on the Marauders and began to usher every Slytherin in sight towards the Hospital Wing, instead. James turned to Sirius as if to laugh, or maybe to sing Lily’s praises, but Sirius was still staring intently at Remus, who in turn was looking deliberately at Peter.

“I need a smoke, you lot. See you at dinner.”

With that, Sirius turned and walked off, hands deep in his pockets and shoulders squared.

“What happened?” James said, looking from Peter to Remus. Apparently, he had missed the whole conversation in all its cryptic splendour. 

“Nothing much,” Peter said, deciding to cover for Remus. “He’s just in a brooding mood I reckon. Nice catch with the fwooper, though, are you planning on using it to get Sprout and Kettleburn together? And what do you reckon is for dinner? I think it smells like shepherd’s pie, me.”

“No way can you smell that all the way up here,” Remus said, but he did give Peter a thankful smile. James stowed the fwooper away and threw an arm each around Peter and Remus. Peter looked happily around himself, at his two best friends and at the carnage left in their wake. There were some strands of purple hair that had been left behind on the floor, and some remaining sixth years with their chins sweeping the floor, trying to make their cumbersome way to the hospital wing. His mind strayed to the justice that had been served in regards to Rollo, and he was struck by the feeling that life was suddenly looking up for Peter Pettigrew.


	67. I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana.
> 
> Not sure about trigger warnings but this one touches on uncomfortable themes.

Sirius very rarely felt awkward. It wasn’t the way of the Blacks, and even though he made a point of not being like them in any way that mattered, the need to artfully turn the tables whenever humiliating situations arose was a built-in trait for him.

He had gotten up in the night, unable to sleep, just set on finding his fags and going down to the Common Room to check if Marlene’s ladder was still viable. Remus had been awake, too, sitting up in bed with a muggle novel in his hands, the curtains not quite drawn around his bed. He had said one word to Sirius, ‘ _no_ ’, and then blushed a deep red (just visible in the wand light he’d been reading by) before going back to his book. Every instinct but one told Sirius to throw the facts back into Remus’s freckly face, tell him he hadn’t even been thinking about that, and certainly not with Remus. He had been rejected once, and that was plenty. Sirius had his pride, coupled with bad experiences, ‘no’ and ‘don’t touch me’ were lines he would never, ever cross.

An instinct that was completely unfamiliar to Sirius had overridden his need to turn said tables. It ached, it physically hurt, but Sirius had not been able to get anything self-righteous or cutting out of his mouth. He’d taken his cigarettes and left.

When he returned to the dorm, almost an hour later (time rarely flies when you’re miserable, but sometimes…), Remus had been hidden from view, curtains drawn tight around his bed. Sirius had heard the crying, however, and he’d turned on his heels and gone back to the Common Room and curled up on a sofa. One of the house elves who came to clean the Common Room around four had handed him a blanket. He’d had worse nights, of that he was certain, although he couldn’t quite recall when.

He’d stumbled into the showers, utterly sleep-deprived, and the first thing he encountered was a half-naked Remus. Remus had jumped a foot in the air and clutched his towel around him hard enough that he probably gave himself carpet burn. 

“Calm your hippogriffs,” Sirius tried, something round and sore and vulnerable obstructing things in his throat, “I won’t jump you. Heard you the first time, let’s just…”

Remus nodded, almost viciously, and Sirius could see him mime the words ‘ _move on_ ’. 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, walking into the bathroom. There were several shower stalls, none currently occupied, and as a rule Sirius just got naked (sometimes already in the dormitory) and frequently forgot his towel and just used a warming charm instead. But with Remus here…

“Sod it,” Sirius muttered and began to undress, the way he always did, aggressively and without shame. He was intimately familiar with someone who had lost his autonomy, someone who had ended up in a situation where he hadn’t been allowed to choose who saw him like this, that and much, much worse. The power over his body, over his sexuality, was not something he was giving up, ever again. Anger coursed through his every vein, blinding, blinding, and he had no idea if Remus stayed to watch him get undressed or not. Under the shower, he turned the water as hot as it would go, then as cold as it would go, then back to hot.

He paid zero attention during classes that day, spoke with his mates occasionally and completely on autopilot, and he was sometimes made aware of James. James who worried and fussed, James who eventually left him to it although he never left his side. 

“Let me know when you’re finished sulking, then we can go fly,” James whispered, and Sirius might have responded, or he might not. He didn’t have to with James. 

Later, when the Common Room was almost empty and the Marauders were all sitting with parchments and piles of books in front of them, Sirius decided he wanted a smoke and told his friends as much. James probably offered to come with, but Sirius absolutely wasn’t listening.

Hogwarts really came into itself at night, Sirius thought while he walked purposefully through empty corridors, all lit up with candles. He was called rude by several portraits when he didn’t respond to what they said to him, but he didn’t see any people, not even a ghost. 

Not until he was walking through one of the corridors on the first floor, meaning he was basically begging to be caught by a professor or a Prefect, did he finally run into someone. Prefect it was, he thought, although said Prefect was surprisingly alone, apparently patrolling the corridors on his own. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, something like recognition flashing in the Prefect’s eyes.

“In here,” the boy whispered, and Sirius noted with mild surprise that it was Binns’s classroom. He had an inkling of where this was going now, and he didn’t think it would involve a stern reprimand from the Prefect. He drew himself up to his full height and sauntered in, raising one arrogant eyebrow not a little provocatively. 

The Prefect crowded him into a corner, steering him carefully and calculatingly, then pushed him to his knees once Sirius’s shoulder hit the wall. The other boy was breathing heavily, an unmistakeable erection right in Sirius’s face. 

Sirius wet his lips and mulled over the options. His mind was still a blank, almost like he wasn’t there at all. The floor was dusty, and he could feel the remnants of a cobweb on his hand. 

“Come on, Black,” whispered the other boy, he was lifting his robes, bunching them around his waist first, then muttering a swear and pulling them over his head, tossing them towards the nearest table. “There’s a rumour going around that you’re…”

Sirius gazed dispassionately at the bulge in his underwear, trying to remember what the Prefect was called. He was a Ravenclaw sixth year, of that he was moderately sure, but right now Sirius couldn’t think of a single first- or last name of anybody in Ravenclaw. And he was usually good with names.

The Ravenclaw freed his own prick from the unappetizing y-fronts, and Sirius sighed a little, trying once more to clear his head. He didn’t mind sucking cock; he had realized that with Remus. Maybe that was all the soul-searching he needed to do tonight. 

This one was much smaller than Remus’s, too, taking it would be a piece of cake. It wasn’t as if this mattered, anyway. He wasn’t James, in truth he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to feel like James did for Lily. It wasn’t something Sirius had in him, although... No, that was gone, he had fucked that up himself. No dwelling. What he had was a talent for giving and taking pleasure, making it good for both (or all) parties involved. And wasn’t it much better that way? Easier on the mind and heart…

He decided it would be better to take matters into his own hands from the get-go, and so he pushed the other boy’s hand away, wrapping his own hand around the hard prick, squeezing the dry length that was hot, soft and hard all at once, and leant in. The Ravenclaw wrapped his fingers in Sirius’s hair and Sirius pondered if he should let him do that or not. He wasn’t very turned on himself, and what would have been fun to do with someone like Remus wasn’t as appealing with this other boy. In the end he decided that because he could undoubtedly take the other boy in a fight, he would let him. Sirius would absolutely be in control of this situation no matter what the Ravenclaw might be thinking, and he would allow the other boy to play with his hair if he was that eager. As Sirius did have uncommonly fabulous hair it only made sense that other people couldn’t hold their hands in check around him.

Sirius took all at once, making what he hoped was an obvious point while he stuffed his mouth. You’re not that big, I’ve had bigger, let me take you down a peg or two. The Ravenclaw moaned like it was the greatest feeling in the world and pulled roughly at Sirius’s hair, pushing his face into his groin, nose and eyebrows pressing uncomfortably into soft flesh and coarse pubic hair. He had a strong body odour, too, and so unfamiliar. Sirius didn’t have to gag from the prick, which he saw as a victory. He started sucking in a practised manner, caressing the underside of the prick with his tongue and letting plentiful saliva lick against the whole length. The Ravenclaw moaned and swore, sounding almost upset, and then Sirius could feel the beginning of his orgasm. He moved his head a bit back, only to find the prick being pushed back in, the other boy’s fingers tight on his jaw and the back of his head, pushing himself back in and then drawing out as his prick throbbed. Another drawn-out moan and he was painting the inside of Sirius’s mouth, not as salty as Remus’s or indeed his own, and rather thick and sticky. Sirius swallowed, roughly and with continued suction, which drew more angry swears out of the other boy. Sirius let the prick out with a plop and a mean little grin, meeting the other boy’s eyes challengingly. There was vicious pride coursing through him; he’d made an older boy come in approximately thirty seconds. Thirty seconds had been enough to reduce some nameless Ravenclaw into a red-faced puddle of reluctant satedness. Sirius could tell he would have preferred it to go on for much longer, draw it out and really put Sirius to work. That hadn’t happened.

Sirius got up from the floor with easy grace and pushed the other boy away from himself. He stumbled back, involuntarily taking a seat on the table he’d thrown his robes on before. He looked almost vulnerable now, clumsily fumbling to put his soft and wet prick away, still breathing as if he’d run a marathon and covered in a fine film of sweat. Sirius gave his own semi an experimental press, eyeing the other boy dispassionately. In a sense he thought he’d always be up for it, but it could definitely wait for the privacy of his own bed or the showers this time. Instead he wandered over to Binns’s desk, idly pulling open a drawer and wondering what uses a ghost could have for drawers, or indeed for a desk. 

“Can I see you again?” The voice was still breathless although the Ravenclaw was putting on a suave voice and attempting to smooth out the Brummie accent.

“Maybe,” said Sirius disinterestedly. Privately he doubted it, but then again he did gag for it more often than not and it would appear you couldn’t count on somebody truly worthwhile being around. 

“OK, then. Bye?”

Sirius waved nonchalantly in the direction of the door, he had found something that might be an old diary. The door clicked shut. Sirius took up the thick, leather-bound book. As it had been confined to its drawer it wasn’t dusty, and after trying out a few spells it fell open accommodatingly for him.


	68. No words can save this; you're broken and I'm pissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Kasabian's "Goodbye Kiss".

James was still waxing poetic about Lily tossing the fwooper hours later. The little ceramic statue he had stolen, and that Lily had subsequently taken from his hands and _touched_ , was now on James’s bedside table in prime position. Remus couldn’t remember how many times he’d listened to the same sentences; it was as if there were a dozen or so phrases on a loop attached to James’s mouth. Remus also thought that it was distinctly unfair that James could talk about Lily as he wrote his Potions essay, and not only that, he’d also successfully finished his essay half an hour previously. He was good with words, could recite worryingly long passages by heart, and it didn’t seem as if his conscious brain needed to take any part in essay writing. Remus and Peter were both still writing, even though Peter appeared to be copying passages at random from James’s essay. He was making more headway than Remus and it was all very frustrating.

Remus’s conscience was as guilty as it had ever been that evening. He knew that his friendship with Lily was now in a precarious state, and of course it was all his fault. She had expected better of him today, had at the very least expected _something_. He had stood by as his friends hexed unassuming members of the public; he hadn’t lifted a finger to do _anything_. He could still feel the disappointment from the brief look she had given him. He was a Prefect; he was a Gryffindor. Supposedly righteous and brave. Professor McGonagall had made a huge mistake when she decided he should get the badge, even though she had been left between a rock and a hard place in picking a Prefect from her Gryffindor boys. After last week, though, Remus thought that James would probably have been the better choice, despite all the pranks and the lacklustre way he abided by authority. At least James was brave, at least James’s heart was in the right place. Remus clearly couldn’t claim either.

“The way she got a bit of a screw into the throw, though… I tell you, lads, she could easily have made the Quidditch team with aim like that.”

Peter had stopped writing, again, to listen and nod, and Remus felt his own concentration slip despite his pretence of being in the middle of looking something up in “1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi”. 

“Are you still not done?” James said next with a long-suffering sigh, and Remus tried not to throw the book at him. Somehow, he didn’t imagine James would be as impressed with his throwing skills as he had been with Lily’s.

The portrait hole opened, and their fourth member sauntered in, robes dishevelled and a book in hand.

“Did you get laid in the library?” James asked, drawing on the same information as Remus. Remus’s heart sank like a stone into deep, icy waters. 

“Binns’s classroom,” Sirius explained and drew closer. Remus could tell that his lips were swollen, they looked the same way they used to look after he gave Remus blowjobs. He quenched down the unreasonable jealousy (he had ended this, hadn’t he?) and the more understandable feelings of regret (why had he needed to end this, exactly?) and focused on the book in Sirius’s hand instead.

“Travel diary from the year 1929. It was dead easy to get it open, he only used that French locking charm Flitwick told us about last year.”

Remus raised his eyebrows for two reasons. Firstly, stealing (or borrowing, if they were being generous) the property of one of their Professors, no matter how dead, was a big crime for a Wednesday night. Secondly, how on earth did he have two friends with incredible memories? He remembered nothing Flitwick said during his lectures and relied completely on reading and rereading the set course literature and his notes. 

“What’s he written?”

“Mostly it’s riveting stories about meetings with goblins in Switzerland. Makes for a right epic. But there’s an interesting incantation here, I actually think it might turn things into gold.”

“That’s not possible,” Remus countered immediately. “Alchemy does that, but Binns won’t have the recipe for a Philosopher’s Stones lying around in his old travel diaries, will he?”

“My dad told me once that he’d met Nicolas Flamel at the Magical Inventor’s Conference in Buenos Aires,” James said, sounding almost bored. Remus gasped, because that had to be one of the most famous wizards in all of history, and knowing someone who had met him was deeply impressive. Only James could sound that casual while dropping a name like that.

“And?” Remus prompted.

“And nothing. My Dad isn’t exactly a talkative chap, you’ve met him, haven’t you? At the most they probably discussed the properties of fangs from Hebridean Blacks in experimental potion making, or something.”

“Oh,” Remus said, trying to not sound defeated. Of course, they had discussed the shortcomings of their respective fathers only a couple of day ago. Fleamont Potter certainly couldn’t be accused of having mastered the art of small talk; Remus did know that much.

“Well, I still reckon we should try it,” Sirius said, although he sounded mostly uninterested now. Remus, who had purposefully not been looking at him, suddenly found himself eyeing the outline of Sirius’s lips. So red and soft and yeah, definitely puffed up. 

“Sure. On what, though?”

Sirius’s arrogant eyes travelled languorously over the room and settled on Peter.

“No!” Remus said, surprising everyone including himself with the loudness of his voice. 

“Let’s try it on something inanimate,” James said, having undoubtedly realized where Sirius had been going as well. Peter clearly hadn’t, though, he appeared clueless about what a near escape he had had. He was scratching his temple with his quill and leaving ink smudges all over the place. 

Sirius was staring at Remus now, and Remus thought his eyes looked frozen, a stormy winter night that had gotten so cold even the wind had turned to ice. 

“What’s the incantation?” James asked.

Sirius smirked, but it was lacking in anything Remus could recognize as emotion.

“Midas.”

“Ah,” James said. “I see what you mean. _Midas_!”

James pointed his wand at Remus’s quill, which was lying on the table they had been working at. 

“Oh!” Peter squealed, because for several seconds the scruffy grey quill shimmered all golden. Then, with a cracking noise, the quill turned to stone.

“Ah,” James said again. “That’s unfortunate. I’ll give you one of my quills, Remus, my bad.”

Remus picked up his old trusted quill, it was heavier now than before, and surprisingly brittle. The formerly feathery bits crumbled into sand in his hands. 

“What a scary spell,” Peter said, although he sounded more eager than frightened, “just think, what if we had used it on something living?”

“Yeah, just think,” Remus said mildly, although he couldn’t help shooting a look at Sirius as he spoke. Sirius was still smiling that horrible, uncaring smile.

“I’m hungry,” Peter continued, looking hopefully between Remus and James.

“I need to finish this,” Remus said, gesturing towards his essay. 

Sirius got up without a word and walked to the staircase leading to the dormitories. James stared wistfully after him, no doubt missing his best friend. Remus began biting on his thumb again; it really was like a disease. 

“Yeah, I’ll come with,” James said finally, although he sounded reluctant. “Want me to bring you anything, Moony?”

‘A time-turner’, Remus thought sarcastically. ‘A different past and a brand-new future. A mend for that torn, vulnerable pink thing that still tries its best to pump blood around my body, even now, despite it all’. 

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

He barely noticed as the other two left, eyes unfocused on his half-finished essay. He bent back over it, putting quill to parchment to write who knew what, and then the petrified quill ground into more sand and pebbles that spread like dust all over his essay. Right.

Remus got up and walked to the dormitory to get one of James’s. Perhaps he did entertain an ulterior motive, too.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. Sirius was sitting on his edge of his own bed, drinking straight out of a Firewhisky bottle. What was more, his knuckles were bloodied, both of them, and Remus looked around, found the corresponding bloodstains on the wall next to Sirius’s bed. 

“Heal your fucking fingers, Remus,” Sirius said. Remus stared at his fingers, at his bloodied, bitten nails. Something told him this wasn’t an evening when Sirius would appreciate irony. 

Remus ignored him and went to James’s trunk and had a dig around. James was the least tidy out of all of them, which was saying something. He found a quill in the end, a brand new one of soft brown colouring and gold details. It was much too fine and expensive for someone like Remus, but he had to take something, had to have something to show for why he had come up here in the first place. 

He turned around, quill in hand. Sirius was still sitting on his bed. Remus walked over, trying to put some sort of purpose in his step. 

“I need you to be nicer to Peter,” Remus said aloud. His voice sounded jarring in the dormitory, like there was an echo. Sirius looked straight at him with that horrible lack of emotion. Remus wondered if he looked the same. 

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, quieter now. “And I need you to be nicer to yourself.”

He took the bottle out of Sirius’s hand, and to his surprise Sirius let him. He turned and walked to the door, quill in one hand, bottle in the other. That was when Sirius laughed. It was a loose, not quite sane laugh and it made the hair on the back of Remus’s neck stand up.

“The irony, Remus, _the irony_! Look who’s talking.”

Remus ignored this, too.

He was alone in the Common Room, still working on his essay when James and Peter got back. He’d finished the last of the Firewhisky bottle, though, and when the other two asked, he assured them that he had never felt better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas to everyone reading! Will continue this in the New Year.


	69. I don't mind other guys dancing with my girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Kids Are Alright" by The Who.

James ruffled his hair artfully in the mirror, pushed back his glasses on his nose and gave the friendly, handsome face in the mirror a mischievous wink. 

“Looking good!” he told himself approvingly.

He had been out all morning for a hard but fun quidditch practice, then on his return happened upon Snivellus as he talked to Lily and managed to send a wholly non-verbal stinky armpits jinx his way without anyone noticing. After that he’d broken into the Prefects bathroom to douse himself in all manners of exciting bubbles and lotions, and eventually returned to the dormitory where he was handed a steak and ale pie by Peter. The other Marauders had apparently spent their Saturday morning at breakfast and later in the kitchens getting provisions. Amanda Roper, one of his fellow Gryffindor chasers, was hosting a common room tea party to celebrate her birthday, and she had requested the boys help her procure crumpets and scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream and as many tiny little cucumber sandwiches as they could carry. James knew Amanda well, they had both been recruited for the team four years ago, and he was eager to see if she liked the miniature model of a Cleansweep Five he was gifting her (he’d transfigured some dried leaves and a pebble into a tiny figure that looked passably similar to the birthday girl. The figure had legs that bent and everything, and James had already put it on the tiny broom and charmed them to fly a few laps around the dormitory). So far, it was looking to be a great day.

“Oi Prongs, stop hogging the mirror! I nicked some eyeliner from Marlene’s bag and I need to see what I’m doing. Making my eyes pop is a delicate operation, you know.”

“What a poncey little thing you are,” James cooed affectionately at Sirius.

“You better mind your tone, I’m still bigger than you in all but ego.”

“That’s not what I heard,” James told him with a saucy wink. Peter and Remus were both laughing, which was making James’s spirits soar. Nothing like an audience to show off his brilliance for.

“Get hard then and we’ll compare,” Sirius said impatiently, already abandoning the indigo-coloured makeup pencil and beginning to unbutton his lowcut, extremely tight jeans with some difficulty.

“Bloody gross, mate,” James told him happily, sneaking his wand into one hand and beginning to unbutton his own muggle trousers with the other. 

“Conjure us a tape measure, will you, ta!” Sirius said to Peter and Remus, the first of whom was giggling nervously and the second who was groaning and looking away pointedly.

James laughed heartily, knowing that was likely well beyond Wormtail’s and Moony’s combined capabilities. He paused for a fragment of a second, just to get good aim with his wand (the mahogany one):

“Orchideus!”

“Coruscenti!”

Sirius was suddenly clutching a sizeable bouquet of mixed cornflowers and lily-of-the-valleys that were poking out of his flies, while James found his groin showered in a colourful explosion of glitter. 

“Prongs, my love! Ever since I first clasped eyes on you on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago, my heart has beaten only for you…”

Sirius had gotten down on one knee right in front of James, glitter still falling around them and clasping the bouquet in his hands, which were reaching up towards James in a gesture of all that was sappy and pathetic and completely foreign to James’s best mate. James howled with laughter, drowning out whatever further declarations of love Sirius was spewing at the height of James’s midriff. 

“Catch!” James hollered next, wrenching the blossoms out of Sirius’s hands and throwing them diagonally behind himself to where Remus and Peter were standing. Remus, whose reflexes were generally agreed to be shit, didn’t even get his hands up in time. Peter, however, caught the flowers just as they hit off Remus’s shoulder and began to fall to the floor.

“Congratulations Peter, who’s the lucky lady? Spill!” 

Peter got bright red in the face and clutched the bouquet compulsively in his pudgy hand. 

“I know who his new sweetheart is!” Sirius said evilly as he stood up from his proposing position on the floor. Peter’s mouth fell open in apparent horror. “It’s Professor Scarborough, isn’t it? I’ve seen you making googly eyes at her every time she scratches her nose with the back of her wand. You seem to find it adorable.”

“Sure that’s Peter?” Remus said, and even if the first word came out icily, he managed to make his voice mild and non-committal before the end of the sentence.

Sirius hesitated and Peter, although still flushed, stared shrewdly between them.

“Why on earth would anyone be into Professor Scarborough?” James interrupted. “I mean, she’s talented but she’s no looker, is she? Probably a lesbian, I reckon.”

Remus gave him the sort of look that suggested he’d said something moronic and Sirius gave him an infuriatingly superior smile, so he turned expectantly to Peter instead. He could always count on Peter.

“Maybe,” Peter said doubtfully. “Although, in those magazines, you know…”

“What magazines?”

“The sexy ones,” Peter said quickly, stumbling a little over the word ‘sexy’, “in them, the lesbians are always more…”

“More naked?” Sirius suggested.

“More attractive,” James said, understanding what Peter meant. Professor Scarborough would not have sold a whole lot of magazines if she were to get naked and proclaim herself a lesbian, Peter was on to something there.

“You three are disgusting,” Remus muttered, sounding more disappointed than angry, but still.

“Oh come off your high thestral,” James said immediately, because he refused to feel shame over something like this. “You’ve probably looked at just many dirty magazines as the rest of us, you just hide behind your curtains when you do it rather than keep them open and invite an audience, eh Sirius? Anyway, Peter, I see where you’re coming from, but I’m going to assume that porn mags only feature attractive women and that not all lesbians actually are as attractive as we’re led to believe.”

“False advertisement, you mean,” Peter said, and James refrained from laughing because those were profound words and a rarity out of Peter’s mouth. Sirius felt no such need and barked out a loud laugh at Peter’s expense.

“I think plenty of girls who are happy to be photographed in the nude are equally happy to pretend to be a lezzer if they’re given a bit more money. Actually, I reckon most of the men in those magazines aren’t very attractive, so if it’s between fucking someone attractive of the same sex or someone ugly of the opposite sex, I think the choice is pretty clear, don’t you?”

“Not the way you’re thinking,” James said, although he did have to pause to think it through. “No, I really don’t think so. Not for me. I wouldn’t, not with another…”

“You don’t count, you only would with Lily,” Sirius said harshly. 

James sent Peter a quick look, could see plainly from Peter’s face that he wouldn’t consider anything with someone of the same sex, either. Remus had picked up a book from the floor and stuck his nose into it, pointedly ignoring the conversation. Sirius made a frustrated noise when he got no agreement. He wasn’t the type who normally needed other people to agree with him and James concluded that they must have hit upon a rare, touchy subject.

“You raise an interesting point about the men not being very attractive in porn mags, though,” James said placatingly. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I reckon you’re right. They just want men who are equipped like hippogriffs, never mind what their faces or the rest of their bodies look like. Bit of a double standard, eh?”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Remus said shrilly, face red and nose an inch or so from his book, attempting to hide behind it and behind his fringe.

“Your face and the rest of your body are perfectly-” Sirius began, sounding strangely tender before he bit his tongue. Remus looked tense enough that he might just fling the book at Sirius’s head.

James burst out laughing; he couldn’t help himself. Peter joined, albeit more hesitantly. They’d all seen each other naked over the years, and they had joked about the nature of Remus’s dick before, because it was rather noticeable compared to the rest of them. Remus was ridiculously easy to embarrass, although he obviously had nothing to be ashamed of when it came to size. It was still funny though, because now Sirius would have seen him in his full, tumescent glory. 

“Listen to Sirius, Moony, none of us think you’re bad looking. However, I also can’t imagine you starring with one of those pretty ladies, impaling orifices with your-”

“Would you please shut up?” Remus squeaked, his voice going ridiculously high before breaking. 

James laughed some more and threw a pillow at his good friend. Remus laid down on his bed, book abandoned and pressing the pillow over his face.

“I don’t know about you, but I think it’s good we got this conversation out of the way before going down to the tea party,” Peter volunteered. 

“Very true,” James agreed, turning to watch Sirius instead now that Remus was hiding. Sirius had picked up the blue makeup pen and was standing in front of the mirror, meticulously drawing with the sharp pen along the lid of his eye. It looked dangerous and very intriguing.

James skipped towards him and gave him no warning before he had hugged him from behind.

“You’d kiss a pretty wizard or witch in front of the cameras, wouldn’t you, Padfoot?” he whispered seductively into Sirius’s ear. Sirius shuddered and put the pen away in his pocket. His eyes were definitely popping now, James saw.

“I don’t see why there needs to be a great big distinction between the two,” Sirius said quietly. James hugged him tighter.

“Makes life more interesting I suppose,” James conceded. “Would you ever snog me?”

“Fuck no,” Sirius said, giving James a scandalized look through the mirror with the artfully enhanced beauty of his eyes. “You’re my brother.”

James smiled and gave his brother a lewd lick up his neck. Before he managed to finish marking him with a slobbery trail of spit, Sirius had wrestled him to the floor and had him in a headlock.

“You’re a dead man walking, Prongs!”

“Not to interrupt or anything, but I’m actually feeling a wee bit peckish,” Peter’s voice said from above. James stilled in Sirius’s grip, felt Sirius pause in return. 

“Ha! Gotcha!”

James managed to get the upper hand and wrestled Sirius down on the cold floor instead. Sirius bit his wrist and James yelped.

“We’re leaving,” Remus’s voice said, and James jumped to his feet. Sirius got up too, with annoying elegance and dusting himself off in a way that suggested that he hadn’t been at fault here, that he would never stoop to childish games unless severely provoked. His menacing, gleeful grin told a wholly different story.

“Moony, Wormtail, onwards; my faithful steeds,” James said, attempting to mimic Sirius’s most suave and posh voice, the one he despised and the rest of them found hilarious. 

“Actually, might the two of you close your flies before we all head down?” Remus suggested delicately. “I know you don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

James and Sirius humoured him immediately, reaching out at the same time, Sirius doing up James’s and James doing up Sirius’s. Peter sniggered but then he led the way downstairs.

The afternoon tea-cum-birthday party was already in full swing. The air was heavy with ruby red balloons and the smell of earl grey. James spotted Amanda together with their teammates Aisling and Felix and he went up to her immediately to deliver his gift along with a loud speech. Amanda thanked him but expressed her surprise that he could perform a ten-minute-long off-the-cuff speech without having had a drop of alcohol. James was the first to agree that his silver tongue was rather magnificent.

Usually, James did his best to be the life and soul of the party. He wasn’t alone in that, especially considering he was surrounded by Gryffindors, but he was undoubtedly the best storyteller available these days, and he was also quite the comedian if he did say so himself. Today was different, though. He wasn’t sure if it was because it was still early in the day, or if it was because it wasn’t his party. Probably wasn’t that last one, actually; he could re-appropriate anyone else’s party and make himself the star of it. Even a boozy, girly high tea event wasn’t too far out for him. But today he did no such thing. Instead, James flitted around on his own, occasionally smiling or exchanging a word or two with someone, but never stopping for long. Everyone knew him, of course, and because of his talents in quidditch, pranking and human wit; most everyone liked his company. Tonight, he mostly listened, though.

Lily Evans was never far from his mind, just like she never left his heart, and tonight she was sitting near the old vinyl player that belonged to an older student but often found its way into the common room. Lily wasn’t looking through the records, though, instead she was talking to Remus. Remus was looking unhappy and biting his nails again. Lily looked stunning as always, in her school robes and her long dark red hair tied back into a thick braid. James tip-toed along the wall; they both seemed engrossed enough in their conversation that they didn’t notice his presence.

“I almost reported your behaviour to McGonagall, Remus. I can’t be paired with a prefect who just stands around doing nothing while his stupid mates hex a dozen innocent students in the serpentine corridor. It makes you a weak, cowardly tosser, do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me you’ll do better.”

“I-” Remus began, hesitating.

“Bloody pillock.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten the badge in the first place,” Remus said slowly. “I… You know what, fair is fair. I’ll hand it in to Professor McGonagall. Maybe she can ask Mary to be prefect in my stead. Or Azalea, or even James-”

“You’ll do no such thing, Remus bloody Lupin!” Lily said fiercely, suddenly taking Remus by the shoulders and shaking him. “That’s not what I meant, at all, you enervating little gobshite! I want you to do better, because I know you can. You’re the best choice, of course you are. I had no idea that your self-esteem was shot to hell, otherwise I would have phrased myself differently. Seriously, what _happened_ to you?”

Remus flinched badly when Lily said ‘seriously’, but James only really had time for the tenderness he felt in his heart. This was his Lily, this gorgeous, righteous, kind woman was his. Or, well, close enough.

“Nothing,” Remus mumbled, but he was blushing badly and Lily was squinting up at him, clearly trying to figure it all out. 

“That’s it, you’re meeting me and a friend of mine later in the week, or maybe next week. I’ll have to check with her, but Thursday after dinner should be good.”

“Umm,” Remus said, looking as if he was sure he had misunderstood something vital in what had been said to him.

James laughed quietly and sneaked away from them. He felt a small stab in his gut, too, because he wasn’t an idiot, he had seen how Remus and Sirius still looked at each other. But he didn’t see a way for them to get back to the way they had been, and to be fair James was still of the opinion that it was for the best. Not because he was a homophobe, no, James was brilliant and tolerant and he could swallow the bile back every time he thought of Sirius wrapping his lips around Remus’s humongous member (it wasn’t as if he tried to think about it, the image had just presented itself fully formed. To be fair he had excellent imagination, and wasn’t that normally a good thing?). No, the reason he didn’t particularly like the idea of them making a second go of things was that he wasn’t sure anymore if their friendship could survive another breakup. Had anyone asked him a month ago, even days ago, if he thought there was anything that could break the Marauders apart, he would have laughed heartily in their face, maybe stuck up two fingers at them for good measure. But now, now he wasn’t so certain anymore. It saddened him, but he was becoming more and more convinced that they had really gotten off lightly. All friends, still, all whole and healthy. Nobody expelled, nobody accidentally mauled, nobody’s secrets laid bare to the school. Or, well, James supposed that Sirius’s secret had sort of been laid bare, if secret it had been. Since he didn’t appear to understand other people’s aversion towards more exotic sexual identities, no real harm had been done. James was sure he’d get laid just as much, if not more after this ordeal. And Remus might end up landing himself one of Lily’s friends, by the sounds of it. 

James smiled happily into the room at large, safe in the knowledge that Lily Evans wasn’t interested in Remus Lupin as more than a friend. They would all be just fine. 

He ducked a large clutch of balloons that were hurtling his way and grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky from the table by the window. It was probably there to allow the birthday party guests to spike their tea with, but James felt like celebrating, and what better way than to drink too much Firewhisky? He had a generous swig that made him cough, then he stumbled onwards. The Common Room was truly cluttered, everyone seemingly had turned up to celebrate, even tiny little first years. One little thing was eyeing the bottle in James’s hand with huge eyes, and James gave him a wink.

“Wait until you’re older,” he said conspiratorially. The boy scarpered, leaving James close to a small group that included his brother, his inimitable partner in crime.

“High tea, geddit?” Sirius was saying to Marlene. Both of them were smoking indoors, which was a bad idea anyway, let alone the fact that neither was sticking to tobacco. James thought about joining in and telling them off, because of the tiny first-years present. Then again, he maybe wasn’t one to talk. You shouldn’t protect eleven-year-olds from too much of reality anyway. 

Tiberius Hounslow was standing with the two, arm comfortably around Marlene and with a rather impressively large love bite on his neck. James squinted and tilted his head to the side, trying to make sense of it. Marlene must’ve almost dislocated her jaw to make it.

“We like shagging when we’re high,” Hounslow told Sirius before giggling into Marlene’s long blonde hair. Marlene giggled too and Sirius’s face cracked up.

“And Marlene’s still a biter, I see,” Sirius said. Marlene swatted at his arm, but she was disorientated enough that she didn’t properly hit him. 

James gave Hounslow a more thorough once-over, curious to see how he would react to Marlene’s and Sirius’s obvious history and continued closeness. James was starting to believe that this might be the right way to get the measure of a boyfriend’s merits. 

“Mmm, she ties me up good and punishes me.”

James coughed, he even felt himself blush which was a rare thing for him. Hounslow’s words weren’t a joke, he realized that immediately from the tone of voice; he sounded besotted and happy. 

“Really?” Sirius said, talking around his spliff between his lips and looking intrigued. Not embarrassed, James noted, but then he probably had first-hand experiences in this field. James grimaced and turned around just as Marlene jumped into a much-too explicit account on what exactly this entailed.

James stumbled over some more first years, and this time he actually shooed them off. Liquor and mild hallucinogens were one thing, detailed descriptions of niche sex-acts quite another. 

He spotted the last Marauder in one of the sofas by the fire, a bottle identical to James’s in his pudgy hand. There wasn’t room in any of the sofas for James, they were all overflowing with squirming bodies and wayward limbs, but James headed that way anyway. Peter appeared to be leaning into a tiny, dark-haired girl who was sitting next to him and James dragged Peter to his feet, because he would just fall asleep if he sat down for too long in this condition. Peter burped a little, looking drunk and a bit devastated to be pulled away from his sofa.

“Prongs! You have to let me go back; I was just-”

“None of that now, Wormtail, we need to stay awake!”

At the same moment there were a number of squeals from the portrait hole. James and Peter looked up in time to see Professor McGonagall climbing through, looking completely out of place in her usual stern correctness.

“Fuck, let’s-”

James was about to pull his wand out and vanish the Firewhisky bottles they were grasping, but then he saw that McGonagall was striding into the centre of the room, wand in hand, back already to James and Peter.

Peter exhaled and began scurrying through the masses towards the portrait hole. Most people still hadn’t realized what was happening, James knew, and he sent a spell into the air before he followed Peter.

The spell was a modified caterwauling charm, one the Marauder’s had perfected over their Hogwarts career until their version had become so obnoxiously loud that it legitimately cut out the hearing completely from everyone in its area of function. 

They reached the portrait hole, ears ringing, and James climbed out after Peter, going completely deaf but it had to be done. Other people were escaping too, although surprisingly few considering the shitstorm that was about to happen. Clearly most of their fellow party goers had never spotted McGonagall at all, and by now they would be despairing over the painful way their ears were being treated.

To James’s utter delight both Remus and Sirius climbed out almost straight after him; Sirius grinning like a maniac and Remus attempting to hold his ears and grimacing unhappily. James could see Marlene and Tiberius Hounslow amongst their fellow escapees, holding hands although Marlene used her free one to give James the finger before she dragged her lover away, presumably in pursuit of a broom cupboard. James didn’t stay to watch, instead he led the way downstairs, followed by the other Marauders.

Hearing returned completely when James threw the doors open in the Entrance Hall, and as they were still hours away from curfew, he strode out confidently, ignoring the rain as best he could. He could hear Remus raising his voice behind him, but instead of waiting he fell into a run, making a beeline for the Whomping Willow.


	70. I had a feeling that I belonged, I had a feeling I could be someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman.

“Hold up, you lot!” Peter got out with great difficulty. He was clutching a painful stitch in his side and almost stumbled over the hem of his robes. He should have worn muggle clothes like James and Sirius had.

The other three were disappearing between the roots of the temporarily stationary Whomping Willow, one after the other, and soon only Remus remained. 

“Hurry up, Peter!” Remus called briskly. Peter was too exhausted from the speed they had torn through the castle and the school grounds at to be capable of anything in the nature of speech. He panted loudly instead, and Remus probably got the intended meaning. Remus was clever like that.

“Need to be quick now, before someone sees,” Remus said, but he sounded more kind than annoyed. “It’s dark, but it’s not pitch black yet, so if anyone walks this way…”

Peter grunted and bent over and stumbled into the secret passageway that started with a hole between the roots. He thought he could hear the Willow sigh, sounding rather exasperated, and then there was a loud swishing that signified the great tree’s branches coming back to life. 

“Lumos!” Remus said quietly behind him and the narrow, low passageway was bathed in light. “Feels funny coming here during the new moon like this. Wonder why James decided this was the it place for tonight?”

Remus wasn’t out of breath at all and Peter felt a stab of envy in his gut, along with the nasty pulling sensation from the stitch in his side. 

“Might be best if you lead the way,” Remus suggested. As Peter was in front of him and as there would barely have been room for him to squeeze past, this was the logical solution anyway. The fact that Peter got to set the pace was a bonus, but probably what Remus would have offered anyway. He was nice like that.

Peter pushed back the unhappiness he felt about the break-up of the party. James had interrupted him just as Pippa Philpott had sat down next to him, before Peter had worked out a way to say ‘hello’ to her. Their eyes had met for a brief second, though, and Peter hoped that this was enough to count as the next step in their budding relationship. McGonagall had barged in straight after, anyway, so it wasn’t as if James had truly ruined anything for Peter.

It took them half an hour to reach the Shrieking Shack, and that was with Peter trying to move swiftly. The trap door had been left open for them and Remus crouched down and let Peter step on his back to get up into the sitting room. Normally, with Peter’s height and sizeable tummy, it was more of a struggle.

The floor was grimy and the old rugs on the floors were torn and had been severely attacked by moth mouths and werewolf claws. The furniture was likewise in bad shape, although it looked as if Sirius and James had charmed and transfigured both of the existing sofas into plusher, more intact items. Both had turned black in colour as well, but that wasn’t really a problem. 

Peter sank down into the empty one with a content sigh and stretched out his short, chunky legs in front of him. His breathing was still a bit erratic but he was getting there. Remus sank down beside him and they both looked at the two boys in the other sofa. Sirius had been whispering rapidly into James’s ear, but now that everyone was seated, he abruptly stopped and lounged back instead, looking imperiously around at Peter and Remus. 

“You made it!” James shouted cheerfully at them, although there was really no need to shout seeing as they were all sitting close together.

“We figured you might want a minute to yourselves to compare penis size, so we took our time, admired the scenery on the way, right Peter?”

Peter grinned broadly, breathing finally under control. Moony sounded snappy and was clearly not to be messed with tonight, which might make things interesting. Peter glanced at Sirius again; but he was lighting up a spliff and looking bored. 

“We already know whose dick is the biggest, and that’s enough to be getting on with. Did you have a good conversation with Evans tonight, Moony?” James asked. His eyes twinkled behind his glasses and he didn’t look particularly jealous. Peter felt proud of him.

“She gave me a right telling off for not keeping you lot in line.”

Both James and Sirius grinned evilly when they heard this, and Peter thought he could tell that Remus was dying to tell them off. Of course he didn’t; he never did.

“I’ll never understand why you want someone stuck-up like that, someone who doesn’t get you and what you stand for,” Sirius drawled. He looked quite stoned already and James appeared to notice the same, leant in and stole the spliff from his slack fingers.

“I can tell she thinks I’m funny, deep down,” he said, sucking experimentally on it before quenching a potent cough. “Ah – I’ve caught her smiling behind her hand when I… When we prank people. Not every time, mind, she does have high standards. But sometimes she appreciates my work, and that’s enough for me.”

“Fuck high standards,” Sirius muttered. “She’s about as fun as Mrs Tattler.”

James just shook his head and kept smiling. To Peter’s surprise Remus was the one who wouldn’t let Sirius have the last word on Lily Evans.

“She’s very clever, actually, rather a wicked sense of humour. Might fly over some people’s heads of course.”

Sirius stared angrily at Remus for all of two seconds, then the anger was smoothed out, replaced with… Peter drew a loud breath but Sirius had already looked away, turned to James to get his spliff back.

“She swears an unnecessarily lot, though,” Remus continued quietly. “Did anyone bring anything but that one spliff the two of you have almost finished already?”

“Oh!” Peter piped up, digging his hands quickly through his robe pockets. “I’ve got sandwiches and Firewhisky.”

The other three watched expectantly while Peter gingerly got out a squished napkin bundle he had put some extra sandwiches in, in case he got peckish and the food at the party ran out. The bottle was in his other pocket, and really he could probably blame it for slowing him down so much on the way here. It was heavy to carry around so much provision. 

James gave his own muggle clothes a regretful look.

“Knew I should’ve worn robes. Muggle pockets are useless.”

“You brought the one bottle, didn’t you?” Sirius said. He’d gotten out two more ready-rolled spliffs from behind his ears and had put them on the armrest beside him. “Fancy a spliff, Remus?”

“Yes please,” Remus said graciously, at the same time accepting the bottle form Peter’s hand and helping himself to a healthy swig from the bottle.

“Accio Firewhisky,” James muttered vaguely, and with his wand wave Remus had to grab a stronger hold of the bottle in his hand which attempted to fly over to James. A second bottle came soaring from the corner by the trapdoor, and James gave a victorious cry as he caught it.

“Sorted,” Peter said happily. This should last them a couple of hours at least, he calculated. He sank further into the sofa, which he was pretty sure had been an unbecoming puce colour the last time he had been here. There had also been huge gashes all over the upholstery, in fact a lot of the upholstery had not been inside of the sofa at all, but rather scattered along the floor. Now, however, the sofa felt soft and comfortable and the fabric covering it was black velvet. It did creak a little underneath him when he shifted his weight, though.

“Lily also told me about what has happened to old Mr Chegworth, who manages the Post Office in Hogsmeade,” Remus said.

“Hm?” James said lazily. He was leaning back, shoulder to shoulder with Sirius, eyes going unfocused. 

“Yeah. He’s been targeted, apparently.”

“Targeted?” Peter asked. James and Sirius were looking more alert as well.

“He’s a muggleborn,” Remus said softly. “It’s not very common, is it, so I suppose that’s why Lily’s friendly with him, stops there to have a chat with him every time we have a Hogsmeade weekend. He wrote to her a few days ago, telling her about it and warning her, in case they go after her, too.”

“Who’s targeted him?” James said sharply.

“Who do you think?” Remus said with uncommon bitterness in his voice.

“Those bastard fucking Slytherins,” Sirius spat out. “They know of the secret passageway, I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“It wasn’t necessarily students,” Remus said with a shudder. “We’ve all heard the rumours, and Lily believes this attack was orchestrated by this Lord Voldemort and his followers.”

“Mulciber and his lot are looking to join,” Sirius said immediately. “Gagging for it, probably can’t wait to prove themselves. I bet what happened to Mary…”

“Yeah, she’s muggleborn too, isn’t she?” Peter said.

“The seventh years, too. Seventh-year Slytherins, I mean. Arseholes, the lot of them,” James said, although he was beginning to slur his words. “But Lily, Lily needs to be safe.”

“She’s bloody fast with her wand,” Remus said, making it sound as though he had seen her in a duel. “She told me about this, about Mr Chegworth, because I’ve told her before that my Mum is a muggle. She says I’ll be just as much of a target, and she’s probably right, isn’t she?”

Quiet fell over their little group. If anyone found out that Remus was a werewolf, too… Snape… Peter squirmed uncomfortably, making the sofa groan underneath him. Sirius was perched at the very edge of his seat, looking ready to fight right now despite the unlikelihood of such an event. James’s eyes were mournful and angry in equal measure. He took an aggressive swig from his bottle and, for once, seemed lost for words.

“What did they do to Mr Chegworth?” Sirius asked quietly.

“Nothing, not to him. It’s the owls, he kept some in cages behind the counter overnight, and they couldn’t get away. They took them and ripped off their…”

Remus fell quiet mid-sentence when there was a loud sob from James.

“They left a message for Mr Chegworth, a note on the till. Basically told him that everything he touched deserved to die, and when they’d killed everything he’d touched, including his wife and his toddler son, they’d come for him.”

“Fuck those people!” Sirius said angrily. Peter nodded vehemently, saw James do the same, eyes suspiciously dewy behind his glasses. “My cousin’s one of them, I reckon.”

Sirius had told them this before, but somehow it had never quite registered for Peter what sort of group they were. That it was something beyond tedious politics, beyond some vague ‘us versus them’ type of thinking. That this group dealt in violence.

“The _Prophet_ wrote an article not long ago calling Lord whatshisname and his followers a myth,” Remus said slowly. “I had hoped… Of course I know that the sentiment exists, that there are wizards and witches who believe that people like me… That people like Lily aren’t…”

“Don’t even say it,” James all but growled. It was very personal for James, Peter realized, but then, if Moony was included, if their Moony was a potential target as well…

“We’ll stand with you, Moony,” Peter said, trying to sound strong rather than anxious. Remus gave him a soft smile.

“That goes without saying,” Sirius said impatiently, and Peter ignored him and took an invigorating swig from the Firewhisky bottle. 

“Ta.”

“How can anyone,” James began, looking lost and unhappy, “I don’t understand. Lily is so… And you, Moony, and your mother, she’s just lovely, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Remus agreed, “of course with Lily, it’ll be easy to be envious of her. She’s skilled in general, and I mean she is a borderline genius in potions, isn’t she?”

“You’re right, that must be it,” James said, although Peter didn’t think he looked as if he understood. Peter, for one, didn’t feel like he really understood this either. He thought it likely that Sirius and Remus both did though, both were looking equally grim.

“Dumbledore told me,” Sirius began haltingly, and then he stopped. He certainly got everyone’s attention, though.

“What’s that?” James said immediately, seemingly sobering up from the words.

“He… When he talked to me, last week, he wanted to talk about wizarding politics and about the aggression society is beginning to experience.”

“Yeah?” James said quietly. 

“I think he thinks I’m in the risk zone to… I set him straight, of course, but I think he genuinely thought that I might harbour prejudices against muggleborns and half-bloods, based on the incident. Snape’s half-blood, and of course Remus…”

“But you don’t,” James began, sounding horrified, “I mean you _had_ some bloody awful ideas when we first met, but I think we eradicated those within the first week, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Sirius said emphatically, “I told Dumbledore as much. With my last name though, I mean… I was angry, when he first started talking to me, gently and carefully, about how blood purity isn’t the be-all and end-all. But then I realized it’s because I’m a Black that I got that talk.”

“You’re not a Black, though, not really,” James said comfortingly. “You’ve not been one since the sorting I reckon.”

“Not since the train ride when I got talking to you,” Sirius corrected James with a surprisingly sweet smile. 

“So that’s what you’re going to do when you meet privately with Dumbledore?” Remus asked him quietly. Peter froze instinctively, feeling almost as if he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. As far as he knew, this was the closest Remus or Sirius had come to talking about the misguided prank that had almost killed Snape and made James into an even greater hero than he already was.

“I believe so,” Sirius responded, looking Remus full in the eye as he did. “He wants to teach me right from wrong before I go off the rails and join a muggleborn-murdering, owl-torturing club.”

“Fuck, do you have to talk like that?” James interrupted with a dramatic shudder. 

“He let slip that he’s going to meet up with Snivellus, too,” Sirius continued harshly. “Guess he reckons he’s at risk, too.”

“Well, Dumbledore’s right about that,” James said. Peter nodded, but Remus made a small noise that sounded like doubt. 

“He’s friends with Lily, isn’t he?” Remus said.

“Only because he wants to fuck her,” Sirius said flippantly. James looked like he wanted to punch someone, presumably Snape.

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it,” Remus said. “I think he genuinely cares about her, and if he’s a half-blood like you say, then I don’t see how he would be taken in by pureblood racism.”

“To be fair, anyone who just had Snivellus for a model might think that all half-bloods are an abomination,” Sirius said nastily. Peter sniggered and James managed to crack a smile. 

“You shouldn’t…” Remus began, but then he seemingly bit his own tongue and leaned back against the sofa, looking defeated. “He moves with an unfortunate crowd and he doesn’t seem very nice, I’ll give you that.”

“’Doesn’t seem very nice’,” James repeated incredulously, and Peter too shook his head. Snape was scum, of that Peter thought they should all be able to agree on. And Moony truly had first-hand experience of it now, didn’t he? Snape had tried to get them all expelled, but Remus he had wanted to see executed.

Peter shivered and had more to drink, tried to combat the coldness that was trying to assault him.

“Snape being a half-blood is probably the only redeeming quality he has, actually,” Sirius continued, despite Remus looking more than ready to bury the conversation. “Just imagine how insufferable he’d be if he was a pureblood, from the ‘right’ family? He’d strut around like he owned the place, grease flying, and he’d probably curse people out in the open, or more likely poison all of the unworthy students. There’d be no consequences if he had higher standing, if he had a mum and dad who could throw a bit of money about and get him off when he misbehaved.”

“Quite the dystopia you’re painting for us,” Remus muttered, and Peter didn’t understand the word, but he didn’t feel like asking what it meant. It was never fun to be the least intelligent of the group, but five years on and Peter was getting used to it.

“You believe what you want, Remus,” Sirius said evenly. “Although, considering how justified he thinks it is to look down on people who have problems or are a bit different, considering what he thinks of you… I don’t get why you’d want to defend him. He’s headed the same way as my cousin, as several of the people my parents are close with. Cold, bigoted, narrowminded bastards all around. I can tell the type.”

“We don’t know enough of his background to be able to judge him. We can’t know for sure what he thinks of anything but werewolves, which, admittedly, he wants to see gone from this world.”

Remus swallowed and began biting on his thumbnail. 

“Sandwich, anyone?” Peter asked nervously. There were five sandwiches, and he was prepared to let three of the sandwiches go for the sake of fairness. Fairness was important in their group; Peter truly had learnt lots in five years.

“Yes please,” Remus said gratefully, and Peter let him take one. James thanked him for his as well, but Sirius just took his without even looking at Peter. He appeared to be quietly steaming away on his anger and on the alcohol in his blood.

An hour later saw their bottles almost empty and the sandwiches long gone (Peter had wolfed down both of his). They walked back through the tunnel, some crawling more than others, and then continued up the dead grassy lawns towards the castle. It was completely dark now, but they knew their way, even drunk. Especially drunk. Peter was beginning to feel a bit maudlin about how close he had been to a real conversation with Pippa, and he had to bite his tongue several times, to prevent himself from telling his friends about it. About the angel he adored, the angel who lived with them in Gryffindor Tower.

James was shitfaced and Sirius and Remus were both plenty drunk as well, although tonight they were each hiding it better than normal. They were both more quiet than usual, although both had seemingly made a conscious effort to stop being confrontational. 

“You know what’d make this night better?” James slurred, just as they reached the doors to the Entrance Hall. 

Peter didn’t respond immediately, although he had a fair idea of what the answer was.

“Treacle tart!” James continued triumphantly while Sirius pushed the door open.

“Who do we have here?” a low, maliciously happy voice said. Filch was carrying a much-too-bright lantern and he had a purring Mrs Tattler by his feet.

“Evening, dear caretaker!” James said politely, although opening his mouth was definitely a mistake. Filch pulled a face, sniffed the air and stared suspiciously at him.

“You’re already out after curfew, which means you’re in trouble, big trouble. But you’ve been drinking, too, haven’t you, you useless maggots?”

Peter saw Sirius turn his face so that Filch couldn’t see and pull a ridiculous face that resembled Filch’s just a little, all while mouthing ‘useless maggots!’ at them. Filch grabbed hold of Sirius’s arm and pulled him over the threshold, eyes glinting evilly.

“The number of times I’ve found you four out of bounds at all hours of the night,” Filch spat wetly, “is the same as the number of times I’ve longed to chain you up in my little cellar. Your ankles hooked to the ceiling, I’d like to see how witty you are once you’ve been hanging with your face scraping the floor for an hour or two.”

“That’s illegal!” Peter squeaked, wishing immediately that he hadn’t opened his mouth. Filch sniffed the air again, nodding to himself as though he was confirming the presence of alcohol.

“To the esteemed Professor McGonagall it is, then, and we’ll hear what she thinks would be a suitable punishment… I’ll request a good long evening just for me, though, where I get to punish you properly…”

Remus gave Peter a comforting pat on the shoulder, as if to say that it would all be alright. Peter was trembling.

“Can’t believe we forgot the cloak, and the map,” James muttered as quietly as he could, which wasn’t very quiet at all. Luckily, Filch was pacing ahead and Mrs Tattler was meowing quite loudly.

“We came straight from the party, remember?” Sirius whispered. The two of them appeared completely at ease, Peter noted enviously. If only he could keep his cool like that.

“I should have known,” McGonagall told them angrily while she paced her office, “when I didn’t see the four of you in the Common Room, earlier. Several students got caught for drinking there, too! Such a disappointing day, and you four have managed to make it worse.”

Peter hid himself as well as he could behind James. Remus was standing back, too, in the darkness by the wall, with Sirius in front. He was slouching in a haughty sort of way, taking up space and almost posing, with his black hair shining from the candlelight in McGonagall’s office. Filch was by the door, watching elatedly and almost hungrily. Peter shuddered and decided to look at James’s shoulder, instead.

“I can’t even remember all the times I’ve caught you out of bed, and neither, I’m sure, can Mr Filch! It is clear you don’t take your own learning experience seriously, and even clearer that no matter how many times I punish you, you keep ignoring the rules.”

Sirius barely hid a yawn behind his hand, and Peter could see, all the way from his hiding spot, how McGonagall’s nostrils flared.

“Eighty points from Gryffindor.”

James swallowed audibly and Peter quenched a whimper. That was a lot for one night.

“Mr Filch wants you to spend all of tomorrow working for him. I think that’s quite reasonable, considering how much trouble you’ve caused him now and in the past. You’ll meet him in his office straight after breakfast.”

James groaned out loud, and Peter wished he had the nerve to do the same. They’d barely have time to get a few hours’ sleep, and on top of that they all had an unfinished Potions essay due Monday, as well as Transfiguration homework.

“I will follow you back to the Common Room to make sure there are no further detours from you tonight,” McGonagall continued sharply.

And so they went, past a spitefully smiling Filch, a purring Mrs Tattler, herded by Professor McGonagall who kept close to them all the way and shushed Sirius and James when either attempted to talk. It was safe to say they got back to Gryffindor Tower without further adventures.


	71. I'm trying to let you know that I'm better off on my own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Pieces" by Sum 41. 
> 
> Treat with care, potentially uncomfortable themes ahead.

Tedious minute after tedious minute strung Sirius along. Filch had put him and Remus in the Trophy Room to polish awards and showcases, while James and Peter had been put in a dungeon somewhere, supposedly mending brooms (the floor-sweeping kind) and sorting through hundreds of bottled cleaning products to determine which had gone off and which were still safe to use. Sirius wiped unseeingly over a large silver trophy shaped like an open book. That he had been paired with Remus was unfortunate, although he would obviously still take Remus over Peter any day. Filch had also threatened to separate them if they talked, which had come as a blessing in disguise. Filch’s half-baked threats would never normally have kept him silent, but this time he actually found himself with nothing to say. 

Remus had been hurt. Sirius had seen it in his delicate, freckly face and he had heard it at night when he cried himself to sleep. Sirius, who had formed a pact with himself after the first time he snogged Marlene, had broken his own honour. He wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone, he had promised himself he would never go the way Bellatrix had, the way presumably most of his family had. Sirius had never witnessed any other family member expressing their sexual desires, but he was sure Bellatrix wasn’t alone in how she was. In how she bared you, in how she squeezed you until your bloodstream was cut off. In how she wielded a knife when surely no bloodshed should be required in the first place.

Sirius had really tried to be good, attentive even. Patient in ways that didn’t come naturally to him. Marlene had been an excellent learning experience, they had been on the same wavelength even though they hadn’t clicked on that final, deep level. Sirius had been good to her in bed, despite his scant age he had understood to ask before he touched anything, had done his best to learn what made her gasp and squirm in a good way. Had learnt, eventually, that leaving marks was fine; as long as there wasn’t blood, as long as she said ‘yes’, and ‘please’ and ‘I want it’, and ‘more’. He always offered to spell away any tiny bruises or bitemarks after, although Marlene had never taken him up on that offer. He had learnt that it was alright, that he shouldn’t judge what the party he was with desired from him. He learned to read her, and later others, learned to ask the right questions, after a while he became rather good at what he did. 

He had no idea how many people he had shared his body with at this point. It became easy once he had discovered that his body was his and his alone. It was easy, with the way he looked and the way he seemed to find the right words in the lead-up to ‘fancy a shag?’. He never had to overthink it, he rarely had to think at all. His body was good for it, got hard with anyone, and he usually could make it worthwhile for the other party. He’d spent hours and hours giving head to Marlene when they started out, learnt how to get her off with his hands and with his dick. Some women later on had proven too difficult, and some didn’t even seem to particularly want to get off. That was alright; he asked a second time as soon as he encountered any reluctance, stopped if there was any reason to doubt. 

Men were too easy. Sirius knew how easy he found it to climax in a soft mouth, but by now he was fairly certain that this was a universal male trait. 

Making other people come made him feel good about himself, made him think that he maybe didn’t have the affliction that ran in his family. It fucked with his head that sometimes other people came more and better when there was pain in the mix, and for a long time he had wondered if this was a trick of his mind, that he misread those partners, that it was a sign that he was rotten all the way through and just didn’t know it yet. He thought he could see pleasure in the eyes of women he fucked too hard and too fast, at their request, but could he be sure that that wasn’t a trick of the light? Last night, however, Tiberius Hounslow had said it out loud. Told Sirius that this was what he liked, he and Marlene, and Marlene was someone Sirius trusted. A witch who wasn’t crazy, who didn’t want to hurt or be hurt for the sake of mentally destroying the person she shagged. Someone who was reasonable about it, someone who understood consent, someone who wanted all parties to get off. 

It had been a revelation, in a way, even though in another way he had known it all before. It had been like a soothing balm on his weary mind, though, it had meant that he hadn’t crossed a line with all those girls who had specifically asked for it.

It didn’t mean that he liked it, but then he had been clear on that from the start. There was no reason to judge other people on what they liked, no reason he had to strictly understand why it got them off. As long as he didn’t hurt them it was fine, and now he felt certain that he hadn’t hurt them.

Then there was Remus.

He had never left a mark on Remus, and he was beyond relieved he had never been asked to. He didn’t think he could have if Remus had asked him for it. Remus was as precious as they came, and besides Remus hurt himself plenty each month anyway. Sirius had only given him gentle pleasure in bed, and that soothed his nerves somewhat now that the fallout was a fact.

He had hurt Remus, in the end, hurt him much worse than teeth on a neck or too much suction on a nipple could. Remus was right to put an end to it, because wasn’t this the biggest red flag of them all, the biggest warning sign of them all? Sirius couldn’t be trusted for more than a shag; he’d only end up hurting anyone if he was offered more than sex. He was better than Bellatrix, better than all the other Blacks, just not by much.

The only honourable thing left was to never make a pass at Remus again, to make sure Remus, in time, could find someone else who could give him the painless, romantic relationship he deserved. Sirius would be his friend forever, no matter what, but to begin with he would also need to follow Remus’s lead on how to proceed as friends. Make sure they got back to where they had been a month ago.

Snivellus had all the hallmarks of being capable of the same type of sadism that Bellatrix and her ilk liked to flaunt, Sirius thought. He looked down on werewolves, on other people’s sexualities, he was envious of people who were richer than him, more popular or better at quidditch. Sirius didn’t give a single fuck about how near Snape had come to having his life irreversibly changed. Remus cared, though, and that was all the arguments needed. Sirius wasn’t to try to harm him permanently, no matter how nasty he got. At least not until Remus changed his mind, which he surely would, once Snivellus fulfilled his destiny and joined the terrorists. With the world headed the way it was, it would only be a matter of time before Snape did something truly horrendous. Sirius thought that at least now, with Dumbledore involved, it was unlikely that Snape would be able to harm Remus. So, mission accomplished, in a way?

“Padfoot!” an eager voice called from his pocket. Sirius looked around surreptitiously and found that Filch wasn’t in the room with them, and neither was Mrs Tattler.

“Prongs,” he said quietly, pulling out the mirror from his pocket. James had the map with him, so presumably he had made sure that Filch wasn’t close to either of them.

“Ah, mate, there you are! We’re getting high on the fumes from Filch’s cleaning liquids down here, the contents in some of these bottles are bloody potent!”

James’s face was flushed and his hazel eyes glittered behind the glasses. The fucker never got hangovers, and not even the severe sleep deprivation they were all suffering from today seemed to have put a damper on his mood. Sirius gave him the finger, but then he smiled, too. Seeing how happy James was, no matter what, was quite a powerful high in itself.

“How are things?” Remus asked gently from behind Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius flinched, but then he changed the angle of the mirror to make sure James could see them both. He could see Peter’s fat pink fingers in the mirror as well, so at least he was close enough to listen in.

“Splendid, Remus old boy, splendid! And you?”

“Just about had enough of silver, me.”

“Yeah, and what’s up with giving students awards in the shape of cactuses?” Sirius said. “I must’ve polished three at least, no kidding.”

“The thorns are no laughing matter when you need to rub them until they sparkle,” Remus agreed gravely.

“Goes without saying that I like all things vaguely phallic, same as the next man, but who would want an award shaped like this?”

Sirius turned the mirror to one of the silvery cacti, a turgid one with long sharp spikes all over.

“Looks painful.”

“Says here it was given to NEWT-student Fionnghuala Finnigan to honour her tireless research into Irish magical plants,” Remus said, apparently reading from the plaque at the bottom.

“Reckon we’re dealing with an Irish thing, then?” James said with a snigger. “I’m sure they have some interesting customs we know next to nothing about.”

“You’d literally have to drink yourself into a coma before you could take this thing,” Sirius said decisively.

“That’s why I asked If you reckon it’s an Irish thing!”

“No more stereotyping from the English, if you please. Don’t think this was awarded with self-pleasure in mind, although, having said that, a bit of pain with your pleasure doesn’t sound too shabby,” Remus said, cheeks turning a delicious pink. 

James and Peter both roared with laughter in the mirror, and Sirius tried to keep his face under control. After the first sensation of arousal abated, he thought he felt cold. Cold and upset. He couldn’t look at Remus. Remus was humming gently to himself and had moved to the trophy case closest to the door, apparently done with the chat and content with his little joke.

“Filch is coming!” Peter’s voice suddenly squealed.

“Later,” James got out before the mirror turned blank. 

Sirius sighed and stuffed it into his pocket, then looked back to the trophy he had been polishing. It gleamed, but there was no way of telling if Filch would deem it good enough. He’d likely keep them there until nightfall no matter how efficient they were, or maybe only until dinner if they were lucky. 

Filch let them go just after dinner was finished, and he smiled evilly as he pointed this out to them. Sirius graced him with his most arrogant look, and Remus smiled politely. They immediately headed for the kitchens, knowing that that was where they would find James and Peter as well.

Before they got there, and with a loud yelp, Remus was suddenly pulled up mid-walk, hanging defencelessly by the ankles from the ceiling. For a moment, Sirius actually thought that Filch had returned with his chains to punish them some more, but then he spotted the sallow and greasy abomination lurking behind a huge, ornate vase.

Sirius went for his wand, but too late, Snape had disarmed him non-verbally and his wand flew out of his pocket. He snatched after it but wasn’t quick enough. 

“Romantic evening stroll, is it?” Snape said, face flushed in an ugly colour and his black eyes glowing. He was pointing his wand straight at Sirius.

“No,” Sirius said uninterestedly, looking away from Snape and checking that Remus wasn’t hurt. His robes had fallen down to his chest but as usual he was wearing trousers and a shirt underneath it, paranoid as he was about anyone seeing the scar on his hip. 

“You sure look at his body a lot for someone who is strictly his friend,” Snape said.

“Not everyone swings both ways even though I quite understand that’s what you think about in the night-time before you come to a sticky end in your hand,” Sirius said, purposefully as crude as possible. 

Snape’s face got darker and even uglier, which Sirius thought was quite a feat as he hadn’t thought it possible.

At that point they could all hear footsteps approaching. To Sirius’s delight the high-pitched voice of one of them was easily recognizable as belonging to Professor Flitwick. With a sudden flash of light, Remus fell to the cold stone floor in a heap of limbs and third-hand school robes, and Sirius’s wand was tossed into the middle of the corridor, clattering to the floor. Snape was already walking away, robes billowing behind him.

Sirius’s first instinct was to shout abuse after him, especially berate him about the careless way he had thrown Sirius’s wand to the floor (what if it had broken?), but much more pressing, Sirius felt immediately, was to check that Remus was alright. It was difficult to do so without touching him all over, but Sirius managed, one hand carefully stationary on his shoulder and the other on the floor.

“You okay?” he asked just a Flitwick and a couple of seventh years turned the corner.

“Yeah, fine,” Remus said quietly. He got up, looking embarrassed and brushing off the worst of the dust from his robes.

Sirius gave him a final pat on the shoulder and went off to collect his wand. Flitwick greeted him graciously enough (Sirius was probably the most talented student he had, but Flitwick also appeared to be a little bit afraid of him and had in the past found it much easier to take points from Sirius than from any of the other Marauders). The boy and girl who was with him looked curiously at Sirius, the girl in particular. Sirius recognized her as Maria Arden, the hottest student in the whole school (he would like to give himself that title, but there was that something unidentifiable about her, that something that made everyone turn their heads to look at her, no matter what she did. Sirius thought he came close, but he was not quite as attractive. He likely also had a lot more ego than her, and he gave her his most charming smile, which she didn’t quite return.)

Flitwick smiled much more warmly at Remus, who, although not particularly brilliant in Charms, had always been one of Flitwick’s favourites.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Remus said when they were alone again. Sirius looked up and smiled.

“Yeah, let’s. I’m bloody starving”


	72. Desperately in need of some stranger's hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The End" by The Doors.

The others were waiting for Remus outside by the quidditch pitch. He was running late, walking briskly through the castle, trying to dispel the niggling feeling that the others might just leave if he didn’t get there on time. Logically he knew this wasn’t the case, knew they were not mean in that particular way, and certainly not to him. Still, though, his much cooler friends were outdoors, dressed in their finest and ready to sneak out of the schoolgrounds, waiting for him to arrive.

Remus had been busy all day. He had been so behind with his schoolwork that ending his extracurricular activities with Sirius had been a smart move for that reason too (nobody could say Remus wasn’t at least attempting to put a brave face on). He’d caught up on a Charms essay he had been putting off and already gotten two extensions for from Flitwick, and he had spent several hours helping Peter catch up since he likewise had been slacking off all manners of school work during Remus’s great foray into gay sex, although Remus was entirely certain that he had some other excuse. 

“Fucking half-blood prefect.”

Remus didn’t freeze up, instead he made himself as thin as possible to be able to slink between two much larger Slytherins. He didn’t see their faces, didn’t turn back to look. He knew he probably should have gotten his wand out; shown them he was ready for it even though he wasn’t. And of course, he was a prefect; he could have docked points off them. As if.

In a way the things they had hissed at him were comforting, if you ignored the initial fear he had felt. It was comforting because it could have been ‘half-blood werewolf’, or ‘half-blood poofter’ instead. Clearly Snape wasn’t allowed to speak of the first thing, but the second… 

Remus’s steps grew slower as he caught up with his thought process. Snape had guessed that too about him, hadn’t he? Not that he knew the intricacies of Remus’s sexuality, of course, (who did?) but he had guessed that Remus and Sirius had… What was it James had said, on that horrible morning in the Hospital Wing, when all of Remus’s tentative dreams and hopes turned to ash in his mouth? He had said that Snape wasn’t allowed to speak of anything that had happened that night. Maybe this meant anything to do with Remus. 

Remus upped his pace again and exited through the back door that was closest to the greenhouses. He hoped his deductions were correct. It would make sense because plenty of people had tried (and obviously failed) to tease Sirius for his apparently all-inclusive sexual appetite. Nobody had said anything about Remus, though, not a single word. Nobody knew, then, except for the usual suspects, and Remus was happy to keep it that way.

He lit up as he caught sight of his three best friends. They were standing outside of the quidditch pitch, because James had had practice earlier. Remus waved and all three waved back. He jogged the last few steps and he let James sling a welcoming arm around him. It felt good to be one of a bigger whole.

The Hog’s Head was mostly empty even though it was a Saturday night. Remus wasn’t that drunk, but he didn’t have a watch on him and the clock in the bar only ever showed twenty minutes past four or three minutes past eight, and neither was likely to be correct. Maybe they were very late, or very early tonight. 

They were all wearing muggle clothes as the Hogwarts robes felt like it would give away their ages. Remus didn’t like muggle clothes much, he’d always preferred robes. His jumper was old and worn and his trousers had been his dad’s and were unnecessarily baggy on him. The barman, who was tall and scraggly and had a long dirty beard that covered most of his frame, knew they were underage. Since he hadn’t cared in their third year Remus thought he was unlikely to start caring now. He glared at Sirius and James as they happily saluted him when they went up to order.

“Cheers for having us, mister head hog!”

“You should dye your beard, mate, bit of effort and you’d be tall, dark and handsome like us!”

Remus thought it would have been completely fair if the barman had thrown them out for this, but he didn’t, just greeted them with icy silence and accepted their money.

James got them their first round, just pints of whatever magical beer was on tap. It tasted surprisingly alright, although James had a theory that the bar was charmed to confuse the senses as nobody with functioning taste buds and sense of smell should be able to logically stay inside of the Hog’s Head and enjoy the experience. The bar wasn’t nicely decorated, either.

Sirius sat next to Remus and Peter and James opposite. They talked and drank and laughed, and Remus felt himself get steadily more buzzed. He was comfortable here, comfortable with his friends. He didn’t notice much that went on around them, he didn’t even remember to protest as James got them a second round. They finished that round much too quickly.

“Yeah, I agree,” said Remus who wasn’t listening anymore. Sirius was at the bar now, getting their third round. The bartender was still looking at him with disapproving eyes, but what got Remus’s attention was another man who was speaking to Sirius. He was large and much older and he was dressed in muggle clothes, which was unusual once you hit a certain age. He was leaning in, crowding Sirius against the corner of the bar, one hand toying with a strand of Sirius’s long hair. Sirius’s jacket fell to the floor while Remus watched, and next to the large bulk of the older man Sirius looked unusually small and vulnerable. 

Remus, who as a rule barely reacted to Sirius’s outlandish fashion statements, who had barely noticed what he wore before that fateful night when he had clambered into Remus’s bed, now became all too aware of tonight’s outfit, exposed as it left him to this huge stranger. Sirius’s top was cheap and flimsy and a little glittery and a little see-through. His pale, shapely arms that looked so muscular next to almost any other student’s looked like those of a child when next to this man. Sirius’s jeans were much too tight, something Remus would never normally have complained about, but now he found that he would. Remus could see the shape of his thigh muscles and he thought the bulge in the front was starting to look obscenely large. The man playing with his hair could undoubtedly see it in even greater detail. Then there was Sirius’s face. He was wearing mascara and eye-liner again, and his extraordinarily beautiful face had a hint of femininity in it tonight because of it. The huge man was pushing a massive thumb into Sirius’s mouth, actually making him suck on it in front of the whole bar. Never before had Remus been tempted to start a fist fight, but he was tonight.

“Moony, you have to decide!”

Remus dragged his eyes away from Sirius and found that both James and Peter were looking expectantly at him. They were sitting with their backs to Sirius.

“What’s that?”

“Would a mountain troll or a kelpie win in a fight? Peter’s saying the kelpie would win, but obviously it never would.”

“Maybe if it turned itself into something the mountain troll wanted to eat?” Remus mused, trying to apply himself to yet another ridiculous mental exercise.

“Like a human? Thing is, mountain trolls live in mountains. They’re scared of water, aren’t they? And kelpies kill by luring things into the water. No way a mountain troll would leave its home in search of water. It might be stupid, but it’s not bonkers.”

“You’re sidestepping the problem, Prongs! The question isn’t whether or not they’re likely to meet in real life, it’s which would win in a hypothetical scenario when they do meet.”

“Peter’s right,” Remus agreed. 

“Still not buying it.”

“A kelpie is magical, Prongs, it’s got real powers! A troll is strong and not much else. Might have a club as a weapon. No magical powers to speak of, though. It’s also not as fast as a kelpie, I bet it would never catch it in the first place. The kelpie would absolutely win, it’d find a way to trick the mountain troll.”

James huffed, then downed the last of his pint. Peter was looking eagerly between them, a rare look of pride on his face.

“Maybe,” Remus conceded thoughtfully, although his mind wasn’t really on the problem anymore. The grumpy barman was cleaning a pint glass with a grimy old rag. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, though.

“Now a talented wizard or witch could easily beat both. Take myself, for instance. Or Lily Evans.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but Peter nodded solemnly, as always happy to indulge James. 

“Where’s Sirius gone?” Remus asked. James turned disinterestedly to look behind himself.

“He’s popped out for a fag, I bet.”

Remus’s stomach lurched and he got up from his bench. That big hunk of a man was nowhere to be seen, either. Remus lifted the discarded leather jacket from the mess of straw and decades of dirt on the floor by the bar. The barman stared at him as he passed.

Remus stepped out the door but couldn’t see anyone down the street. Then he heard a nauseating grunt and a smaller moan he knew all too well. Remus walked around the Hog’s Head until he was by the bins. He’d found them.

Sirius was on his knees amongst the filth of the back street, legs splayed and cock peeking out of his open jeans. His top had been ripped to pieces. His head was pushed to the wall, but turned away from Remus, left cheek must be flat against the brickwork. His mouth was stuffed full, drool was dribbling down his chin and he was moaning despite the obstruction to his airpipe. The other man was leaning his hip comfortably on the wall as he fed Sirius his cock, he was holding his chin, moving Sirius’s head as he pleased, half-full pint from the bar in his other hand.

“Filthy, cheap whore,” the man was telling Sirius in a low voice, “enjoy painting yourself like a tart?” He pushed his cock against the inside of Sirius’s cheek where it bulged and stretched the skin. “Begging to be filled up, aren’t you, you little slut. You sound well posh, bet you swallow?” Sirius removed one of the hands he’d been bracing himself with from the wall and wrapped it around his own prick. 

“Did I tell you you can touch yourself?”

There was a smack and a loud groan from Sirius. The man had slapped his cheek. Remus dug out his wand and was just about to attack with Merlin knew what spell when he heard Sirius’s voice.

“Fuck my throat properly, then, you big working-class tosser.” 

Remus froze. A nasty grin spread across the other man’s face and he cradled Sirius’s head with mock affection. 

“You need a massive prick down your gob to make you shut up, is that it? Want me to make you a proper slut who chokes on spunk and begs for more?” 

Remus watched how he rubbed his wet erection on Sirius’s cheeks, around his open mouth as he spoke. Then he tipped the pint glass, pouring some ale over the erection and Sirius’s open mouth. Sirius lapped noisily and the other man laughed, cold but eager. 

Remus felt his heart clench almost as painfully as it had when he’d woken up last in the hospital wing. He was lost here, out of his depth, and genuinely frightened. He hugged the leather jacket with one arm and kept his wand in his free hand, deciding on the spot that even if Sirius seemed to have given permission for this, he might need help if it got ugly. Uglier.

As soon as the shocking noises of Sirius getting his throat fucked filled the alley, it became clear that it would be over very quickly. Had the situation been different Remus might have sympathized with the older man. Sirius took all of him, over and over, even when the man wrapped his hands in Sirius’s hair and used it to force Sirius’s mouth on and off his erection at a relentless pace. The other man came fast and with a vicious grunt, hands pressing Sirius’s face into his groin and prick lodged somewhere in Sirius’s throat by the sounds of it.

“Good boy,” the man muttered finally, releasing a coughing and spluttering Sirius and putting his spent dick away. 

“Your turn,” Sirius said confidently once he’d caught his breath. He was getting up from the ground, prick still out and aroused nipples exposed under his ruined shirt. Remus’s heart lurched again. Sirius’s mascara was everywhere and his mouth was so red and swollen. The other man finished his pint, then threw the glass to the ground in what Remus thought was a completely unnecessary display. It shattered, thousands of tiny bits of glass flying around their feet, and yet nobody reacted. 

The other man touched Sirius’s face next, rough fingers over his mouth and at the sides of his eyes. For a second Remus was sure he was going to say no and walk off, leaving Sirius uncared for in the dark and grimy alley. Remus found himself hoping he would. But then he exhaled impatiently and took hold of Sirius’s hips without warning. Sirius gasped from surprise as he was lifted high, then seemed to get the point and threw his legs over the man’s muscular shoulders. The man pushed him towards the wall again, but this time he was two metres up and far away from steady ground. His erection was sucked smoothly into the mouth of the older man, and Sirius sighed with apparent contentment. 

Remus watched with some trepidation, but except for the height of the position this was not much of a performance. Sirius held onto the other man’s head and he moaned a few times, but he didn’t seem to be in any throngs of ecstasy. He came a minute later, and the man unceremoniously pulled off and spat the semen onto the already filthy ground of the alley. Then he lifted Sirius back down. 

Remus got his movement back in a rush of embarrassment. He realized he ought to go back as they would likely come this way soon. He flicked his wand and the leather jacket rose up, arranging itself the right way up in mid-air, waiting for its owner. Remus hurried off.

His mind was as heavy as his heart now, uncertain of what he should do. He was so jealous he could die; witnessing this had basically been his worst nightmare. Sirius wasn’t his, though. It was debatable if he ever had been, but he certainly wasn’t now. It also made sense why he wasn’t, Remus realized. If this was the sort of sex Sirius was looking for, if this was what he actually liked… Remus’s insides squirmed. He had spent most of his life feeling inadequate, and so you might think that he would be used to it by now. It still hurt.

What went without saying was also that this wasn’t healthy, whatever this was. A huge old man like that could have hurt him or forced him into something he didn’t want to do. Remus felt too sick to figure out what the approximate age-difference here had been. It couldn’t get anymore wrong than this, and yet Sirius hadn’t appeared conflicted about it, or in any way reluctant.

The main problem was that it was Sirius. Remus didn’t know how to tell Sirius not to do something without making him want to do it even more just to be contrary. He lived his life to be spiteful, and he had absolutely no reason to take Remus’s advice on matters of sex. He’d probably point out Remus shouldn’t have stopped to watch like some sick voyeur, because how wrong wasn’t that? Remus had stopped and watched the whole thing. He’d had to, he tried to tell himself, he’d had to make sure Sirius didn’t get hurt. Only way of knowing had been staying to the end.

James had taken his old seat opposite of Peter and Remus sat down next to Peter and downed the last of Peter’s pint. He barely noticed, he actually seemed to be listening to James, who it appeared had not stopped talking about Lily’s prowess in a hypothetical fight.

Sirius appeared after a few minutes, hiding in his leather jacket. He must have gone past the grubby toilets because his face was washed clean. His mouth was bright and sore-looking, and Remus found it difficult not to stare at it as Sirius flung himself down next to James. Nobody else made any comment about it though, and Remus wondered if maybe it wasn’t as noticeable to anyone else. Maybe you had to watch Sirius give head to be able to notice how swollen his lips inevitably got as a result. Sirius held his jacket to his body to hide his top, then leaned into James, nuzzling into his neck like a love-sick puppy. James didn’t stop talking but he cradled Sirius to himself, holding him securely and unquestioningly. He didn’t loosen his grip until they were all ready to leave.

Sirius met Remus’s gaze just once and when he did, he looked precisely as arrogant and cocksure as he always did. There was something defensive there too, but nothing that would lend explanation to what Remus had just witnessed. 

The more Remus thought about it, the more he realized that he simply didn’t have what Sirius was looking for.


	73. So you think we have a lazy time, well you should know better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Slade's "Cum On Feel The Noize".

Peter received an ‘acceptable’ on his Transfiguration essay, which was a huge relief. It was mainly due to Remus, of course, and James had helped a little bit too. Peter took the first opportunity to write about it in great detail to his mother.

What he couldn’t write to her about was Rollo. They didn’t talk about important things, Peter and his mother. Nobody knew what had happened, except for Peter and Peter’s mother and James. Peter wasn’t sure how James even knew, how he had discovered the name of Peter’s mother’s boyfriend. He told James everything, but James was usually busy with other stuff and Peter was under no impression that James listened to everything he said, and James was certainly not under any obligation to remember it all. This, however, he had apparently remembered.

It warmed Peter’s heart that he had. 

The Marauders had spent several days planning a magnificent prank involving a magically improved swan and a children’s paddling pool they had ordered by owl post. The swan had been more of a lucky accident. They had ventured several miles outside of Hogsmeade where they had found a lake, and because they had all been moderately high at the time they had agreed that it would be for the best if they liberated one of the swans in the lake. They had spotted one that seemed to be on its own, no feathery boyfriend or girlfriend in sight, and even Remus had agreed that it was a kindness, really, to give it a new purpose in life. Remus had known to tell the others that swans mated for life, and a lonely one meant that it was likely a widow or widower. Peter had precious few memories of the walk back to school, but he had felt it in his legs the next day. His poor legs really weren’t used to walking such long distances.

By now, Peter was quite eager to get it all over with, and not only because it was going to be a hilarious extravaganza of a prank. He was also keen to get rid of the swan, which honked itself to sleep every night and had shat in all four beds during the daytime when the boys were attending classes. Who knew widowed swans could be such a bother?

This, broadly speaking, was the reason why Peter was roaming the corridors on the second floor on his own, bearing twenty-seven mackerels in his schoolbag.

“Hullo, Peter!”

It was Dorcas again, and how did Peter always meet her when he was on his own?

“How’s it going?” Peter asked, coming to a reluctant stop. He smelt like fish, and he could tell that Dorcas was wrinkling her nose and looking him up and down. She wasn’t bad-looking, Peter decided, in fact he thought she was becoming cuter each time he saw her, each time she greeted him and stopped to talk to him. He couldn’t give her the wrong idea, though, there was Pippa to consider.

“All good, thanks. Us Hufflepuffs have been working together to knit scarves for some of the plants and trees this winter. Make sure they don’t get cold, you know. Turns out I’m a lousy knitter, so I’ve only just finished my first scarf, just in time for spring.”

Dorcas dug out the knitted effort in question from her bag. It was bright purple and orange and turquoise, in a pattern Peter was fairly certain was meant to be stripes. 

“Cool. Very kind of you, I’m sure,” he said awkwardly. If he was a plant feeling the chill, he’d probably pass up on this particular scarf, but maybe most of the plants were colour-blind. Maybe Dorcas was colour-blind.

“Need to take it to Professor Sprout now, see if she likes it as much as you do,” Dorcas said, brown eyes twinkling. “I’m meeting Lily after, although she told me Remus isn’t coming today.”

“Remus?” Peter repeated, and then everything fell into place. “Ah, I see! It’s you!”

Dorcas raised an amused eyebrow, but she didn’t reply.

“Good on you, he’s a great bloke!” Peter said. If he was to have Pippa (and the glances they exchanged weekly, or at least monthly, certainly suggested he would), then Remus should absolutely have somebody nice as well. Someone less mental and volatile than... Dorcas would do perfectly well; she even seemed to like studying. “As it is, we’re sort of busy today. Me and Remus and James and Sirius. We’ve got, um, something planned.”

“Mhm,” Dorcas said, showing off a dimple in one cheek. She had some freckles too, much like Moony really, over her nose. She was definitely pretty, maybe even slightly out of Remus’s league. But Peter was feeling generous today.

“He’ll be pleased to meet up with you some other day, I’m sure, and Lily will come too, you say? She’ll be great at breaking the ice, no doubt. Our Remus can be a little bit shy with new people. He’s ever so nice, though, is our Moony.” 

“Moony?” Dorcas repeated.

“Oh, never mind, we all have nicknames for each other. Better use Remus, actually.”

“Brill, as that was what I was planning to do,” Dorcas said with a smile. “I like his name, it means wolf, doesn’t it?”

Peter gawked like a panicky pike on land for several seconds before he caught himself.

“Ah, yes. His parents were into mythology, fairy-tales, that sort of thing. I reckon he said his name has something to do with the Italian capital as well. Maybe it was where his parents went on their honeymoon?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Dorcas agreed smilingly. “You better get on with your practical joke now, Peter. That fish you’re carrying is going off fast.”

Peter laughed shrilly and waved her goodbye, then he scurried off towards the agreed-upon meeting point. Why James and Sirius, who were carrying everything else, couldn’t have brought the dead fish as well he would never know. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he’d been charged with the mackerel just because they didn’t want to carry the smelly, gross stuff.

He spotted the paddling pool soon enough, but the waterfalls and rainbows and the crown and the rest of it was nowhere to be seen. The engorgio’d swan honked in greeting as it spotted him, though.

“I come bearing gifts,” Peter assured it, rattling his schoolbag, although of course dead mackerel didn’t make much noise. He hoped it understood all the same and didn’t see him as food or as a threat or as anything but the mackerel carrier, really. Swans were rather big animals, especially if they’d been spelled larger by James Potter.

Before he reached the paddling pool, which was conveniently placed in the corridor between the door to the Arithmancy and Muggle Studies classrooms; last classes of the day due to finish in half an hour, his path was suddenly blocked by Mrs Tattler.

“Hssss!” said Mrs Tattler, back arching, tail crookedly pointing down and all of her fur standing on end.

“Argh!” cried Peter, jumping a whole step backwards before he managed to collect himself. The cat hissed again, her green eyes intense and threatening. The swan made an upset, honking noise.

“Oh dear,” said Peter, looking around fervently, hoping that one of the other Marauders would materialize. He couldn’t understand where they had gotten to; James and Sirius were supposed to be here working their charms and transfigurations. And Remus was supposed to be nearby, keeping an eye on the map and warning them if someone walked this way. Peter was just supposed to toss mackerels at the swan to keep it happy; dealing with a hissing, territorial and potentially hungry Mrs Tattler had never been part of the deal.

“Here, pretty puss-puss,” he said awkwardly, hauling one of the slimy, dead fish out of his schoolbag. It smelled revolting, and the texture wasn’t very pleasing, either. “No need to go get the big birdie. No need to go get Filch, either, I’m sure you understand… We can get to an agreement, can’t we? I’ve got plenty of fish, you see.”

Mrs Tattler yowled importantly and followed Peter with bright eyes. He was trying to draw her away from the pool, and especially from the swan (who was shaking its massive wings and following the proceedings with its neck stiffly bent forward, whatever that meant). 

“There you go!” Peter called while he tossed the fish towards the end of the corridor. Mrs Tattler was off like a shot, white and orange and black fur blending together as she sped past Peter. Peter drew a great sigh of relief, then he turned to the swan.

“Right,” he said awkwardly. 

It honked and did something mildly alarming with its neck.

“Calm your hippogriffs,” Peter said, licking his lips and moving up towards the paddling pool. He looked around again but saw no sign of his fellow Marauders. Not for the first time did he curse the fact that he didn’t have one of those little two-way (and why not three-way, he’d like to know?) mirrors James and Sirius had. 

Peter dug out a second fish; after all, there was plenty to go around. He tossed it into the air and the swan’s neck snapped upwards, great beak opened eagerly, showing actual tiny sawtooth teeth. Peter quenched down a whimper. The swan caught the fish in its beak, and although it seemed to find it difficult to eat it, it did its best, eventually swallowing the whole thing in one.

“Remus did wonder if you’re vegetarian,” Peter stated politely, “but James told me to ask the elves for fish, specifically. Smellier the better, he said. He thought it would be funnier this way, even if you didn’t eat it. But here we are, that was alright for you, wasn’t it?”

It was at this moment that Peter was attacked. Later, when recounting his thrilling tale to James, he insisted that it was a Slytherin, hiding behind a suit of armour who hexed him. In actual fact, it was just Mrs Tattler.

Splash! 

Peter gurgled, hyperventilated, and flailed around as best he could. His mother had told him he wasn’t much of a multi-tasker, but here Peter was, proving her wrong in style. He swallowed some water by mistake, maybe even part of a mackerel, attempted to spit it out, and that was when he realized he was under water and drowning.

Strong, tiny hands grasped his robes, then the whole arms descended and wove around his middle. Then they pulled.

“Gaaah!” shouted Peter, emerging with all the grace of a cornered hippopotamus, spitting water everywhere but trying not to swing his arms around too much lest he hit his saviour by mistake. He had been saved from drowning, and he should treat his saviour with the utmost respect.

“Are you ok? It’s Peter, isn’t it?”

Peter’s heart legitimately stopped, he was certain, only to kickstart with a roar. He found his footing and turned around.

“Pippa!” he gasped. “Thank you, how can I ever thank you enough..?”

Pippa’s beautiful, cherry red mouth opened, her eyes sparkled, and she pushed some of her angelwing hair behind her ear. There were waterdrops in it, looking like so many diamonds.

“Pete, my man, what the fuck?”

James and Sirius were rushing his way, both with a slice of treacle tart in one hand and their respective wands in the other.

“You might want to vacate the premises, love, we’re sort of in the middle of something here,” Sirius said winningly, waving Pippa towards him and then pointing to the end of the corridor.

“Blimey,” James said, his face changing between shocked and delighted, back and forth, back and forth. 

Peter gulped for breath. He had never experienced so many emotions in such a short space of time, but his stomach was quickly settling for disappointed. He stared forlornly after Pippa’s retreating figure, but then she turned her head and lifted a hand. Peter’s spirits soared and he waved back, splattering James with water while at it.

“Oi! Don’t make me stink of fish, too, what are you playing at?”

“I – Sorry. There was an attack.” Peter swallowed, his eyes catching sight of Mrs Tattler. She was perched on the shoulder pad of a suit of armour some yards away, assessing the situation calmly with her cruel, green eyes. They met Peter’s, and for a second, boy and cat both knew.

“No lie,” Peter lied, “I was hit by a spell and fell in. Then I almost drowned.”

“Drowned? There’s less than a foot of water in there, you know.”

Sirius barked out a laugh and James grinned happily.

“This is priceless, Wormtail.”

“She saved me,” Peter mumbled under his breath, suddenly not very interested in sharing any more of his heroic tale with his friends. 

“Back to work, Prongs,” Sirius said, twirling his wand between his fingers and staring critically at the swan, which had risen onto its hind legs in the water and was splashing water ferociously around itself. The water was filled with mackerel, and also Peter’s schoolbag.

Peter leant over, dodging the spray as best he could, and fished out his sopping, now empty bag. 

“Better head to one of the bathrooms, Peter. Prefect’s Bathroom’s new password is Squeaky Clean. And hey, you can have the rest of this if you like.”

James handed Peter his half-eaten slice of treacle tart, and Peter accepted it, recognizing the value of the gift immediately. James’s favourite cake was treacle tart. James winked at him for good measure, dusting his hand off on his robes, then he followed Sirius’s lead and pointed his wand at the spectacle in the middle. 

For spectacle it was, by now. The swan was wearing a crown and the water in the pool had turned purple and glittery. While Peter watched and munched on the cake, James aimed his wand at the stone pillar behind the paddling pool. There was a sudden opening and water began to pour forth, creating a fabulous waterfall that splashed and frothed down into the paddling pool. James and Sirius began yelling to one another as the paddling pool quickly filled and began to spill over, but then one or both seemed to come up with spells that solved the situation before they were faced with a flooding of the entire corridor. The water stayed at the same level despite the waterfall seemingly pouring more water into it. Peter smiled as the mackerel were transfigured, one after the next, all taking the shape of rubber ducks but of various sizes and colours. The swan was honking again, but nobody paid it much attention. 

“Let’s go!” James shouted, and Peter began to waddle away as quickly as he could in line of the nearest staircase, while the other two tore through the corridor in the other direction, both laughing madly. The bell sounded, and he could hear dozens of voices, stunned quiet, and then resounding laughter. Peter grinned proudly despite the fact that he was quite alone. He would take advantage of the Prefect’s Bathroom now that he had the password; he’d been reliably told by all of his fellow Marauders that it was the place to be if you fancied a bath.


	74. Farewell the ashtray girl, forbidden snowflake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "This Picture" by Placebo.
> 
> I tried to rewrite this chapter to make it less disturbing, but it didn't work. If you're at all sensitive to reading about dubious consent, I recommend just reading the last paragraph of this chapter to be safe.

Sirius was naked in the middle of the room, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but this time he had stopped in front of the large mirror in the corner. James wondered at the weird shadows on his back and stepped closer, trying to think of a clever way to call his best mate a vain egomaniac. 

“Oi Narcissus!” was his admittedly unoriginal opening line, but he would almost certainly have followed it up with something truly inspired. Instead, he caught proper sight of the shadows on Sirius’s back and his brains skidded to an abrupt halt. “Fuck me, what’s happened?”

Sirius had already turned towards him, but James could see the swollen welts on his back in the mirror behind him. And it got worse. James stared in horror at his best friend, felt blood pounding at his temples as he stumbled forwards. 

“No,” he said thickly, although this wasn’t something you could just ignore until it went away. Sirius looked as if he had been held down and taken advantage of in the worst way possible. 

“It’s from sex, don’t worry,” Sirius explained, but his usual nonchalance was cracking at the edges. His face was a mess of smudged makeup and he healed a burst lip with his wand as James watched. There was something that had to be tear tracks painted in mascara over his cheeks.

“How would that not make me worry?” James asked him incredulously, getting out his wand to try to help. His hands shook and he forced them to still.

“I think I’ll need dittany, actually, could you take the cloak and nip out and get me some from the hospital wing? I can’t go myself, Madam Pomfrey will ask too many questions.”

“How did you even get here without causing a sensation?”

“Oh yeah, thanks for letting me borrow the cloak.”

James paused, but he wasn’t angry, nor all that surprised.

“I’ve got some dittany here,” James stated, sticking his wand back into his pocket and rifling through both pockets after, looking for the tiny bottle he had opened a couple of months ago already. He hoped it wasn’t past its best before date. He fumbled with the cork and as soon as he got it open Sirius snatched it from his hand. James winced, because it brought to attention that Sirius had almost definitely been tied up by the wrists.

Sirius turned away from him, body oddly hunched over. James thought he probably didn’t realize that James could see exactly what he was doing through the mirror. He watched his best friend tip the bottle delicately over one of the bloodied rips in his chest. James thought it was supposed to be a bitemark; although it looked more as if someone had tried to eat his nipple. There were similar tears in the soft flesh in his lower belly. 

James had to look away as the dittany sizzled and burnt; made the uneven wounds froth with deep red blood before new, thin layers of skin appeared. James stared at Sirius’s back instead, watched how his mate’s body tensed from what was presumably pain mingled with the need to stay still so that the dittany didn’t hit patches of skin that didn’t need it. James could smell something like burning meat, which would have been nauseating enough on its own, but here it was mixed with the smell of bodies, of Sirius’s but also someone else’s. 

“What the fuck, Padfoot?” he asked under his breath, although he did realize it was too late for any reprimands. Sirius didn’t respond in words, but he did cower in a most uncharacteristic manner. James’s heart clenched and he found himself touching Sirius’s shoulder in a misguided attempt to give him comfort. Sirius flinched, then heaved something that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey,” James said, swallowing bile. He was aware of what must have happened, at the same time part of him refused to believe it. Wouldn’t put it into words. He squeezed Sirius’s shoulder more firmly, a banal need to remind Sirius that that was normal between friends, between brothers, a normal way for them to touch each other.

“Not going,” Sirius said stubbornly.

James hesitated, and Sirius wouldn’t meet his gaze in the mirror. His voice had sounded surprisingly strong.

“Give me the bottle, then. I’ll do your back.”

Sirius turned, gingerly and nothing like himself. He hadn’t fixed his wrists yet, either, and James took the bottle from him, finding his hands to be steadier now. He took Sirius’s hand decisively, ignoring how grubby it looked, held it purposefully in his own and tipped a drop of dittany onto the livid mark. The thin, raw-looking skin fizzled sharply, smoked some, then healed. James stared disbelievingly at what he was holding, at how the evidence just disappeared, like it had never been there at all. Like nothing had happened. He shivered. Sirius’s hand was still filthy, and James found it difficult to breathe in his smell.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, putting much more strength in his voice than he really possessed at that moment. Sirius wouldn’t meet his eyes, but perhaps that was just as well. 

“I asked for it,” Sirius said heavily.

“Rubbish,” James said, and his voice broke. Sirius flinched again, almost managed to pull away. James took his other hand, held the wrist close so that he could heal it. They were both quiet for a bit.

“I mean it,” Sirius continued eventually, “I met this bloke and told him I wanted to try BDSM.”

“Which means what, cannibalism?” James exploded. “What? Tying someone up and taking bites out of them?”

Sirius seemed to struggle with a reply, his usual wit gone. His face told James that he didn’t quite understand what had happened himself.

“No, it’s… Bondage, first of all. You give up power and it’s supposed to… People enjoy it. Lots of people get off on that dynamic. Pain, too, it’s supposed to…”

“Did it work for you?” James asked as pleasantly as he could. Sirius looked as if he’d been slapped. Literally. “Turn around, mate,” James amended, trying to sound kinder, trying to get the anger to go away. “We’ll heal your back, now.”

Sirius turned, and James could see that he was trembling.

“I didn’t realize it would be like this,” Sirius muttered, head hanging and shoulders looking almost shrunken in on themselves despite the muscle in them, despite the broadness. James wanted to kill the bloke had done this to his brother. As he dripped a little dittany on a purple welt that looked like it had been made with a belt, James realized that the bloke in question had to be a Slytherin. There was no other explanation, no one else could surely be this sadistic?

“This isn’t your fault, whatever stupid shit you agreed to with him beforehand,” James said decisively as he watched the skin burn and heal. “This is assault, not some fucked up sex game. You clearly didn’t want what you got, no one in their right mind would want this.”

“I got hard to begin with, when he sucked me off,” Sirius said sharply, sounding almost as stubborn as James. James bristled, but he knew that this was a game he was better at than Sirius. Besides, he knew he was right.

“Most blokes get hard when they get their dicks sucked,” James spat out, using the same crude words his mate had used, refusing to cringe at them, at the thought of two lads at it. “I’m sure being tied up a little can be sexy or whatever, as long as you can get out of it. Clearly, you couldn’t. And hurting someone the way this fantastic new bloke of yours has hurt you, that’s lightyears from sex. What he’s done to you is wrong, plain and simple.”

Sirius seemed to sag even further and James got working on the last of the raised bruises on his back, making it, too, disappear. Just like that, it looked as if there had never been anything wrong at all. James swallowed down an angry impulse to tell Sirius that it might have been better to leave one as a reminder, because that way Sirius wouldn’t be this stupid again in a hurry. The impulse died almost immediately, leaving James horrified with himself as much as with the situation at hand, with what Sirius had endured and surely was still enduring inside of his head. 

“Who was it?” 

“A big bloke I met last weekend in Hogsmeade.”

“What?” James almost shouted, making Sirius whip around, hurt and scared and looking ready to fight. Then Sirius winced, hand going between his legs, and James felt a new wave of fright wash over him.

“I don’t know what to…”

“Did he bum you?” James asked, talking over Sirius.

“No,” Sirius said, attempting a wry smile, “funnily enough that was the one thing I specified I didn’t want him to do. He kept our agreement, didn’t touch me there at all.”

James gave him another angry look, hoping Sirius didn’t expect him to be impressed with this.

“Is your dick hurt, then?”

Sirius winced again, they both looked down uncomfortably. Sirius took his hand away, baring black hair and his soft pink bits. James crinkled his nose.

“I… A bit. But it’s my balls, more than my dick. Somehow, I don’t fancy putting dittany on them, though.”

“Fair enough,” James conceded, feeling himself grimace in sympathy. 

“Maybe I can just leave them alone for a couple of days,” Sirius said hopefully.

“Maybe. How old was this bloke?” James asked heavily.

“Dunno, didn’t ask.”

“Meaning he was quite a bit older than you?”

Sirius didn’t answer at first, eventually he gave a small shrug. 

“Mate, you’re-” James began unhappily, searching for the words. “That’s mental. You meet some grown up geezer out on the piss, in the Hog’s Head at that, and you don makeup to make yourself look like you’re a… And offer to let him tie you up and hurt you?”

“I thought it would be fun,” Sirius said, eyes going hard as soon as James mentioned makeup. “I look good, and even better in makeup, stop making it about that. I had this image of how hot I’d look, looking like I do and tied up. He seemed to know what he was doing…”

“And then he took advantage,” James interrupted. Sirius shuddered and turned his face. 

“I never properly told him to stop.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James continued insistently. “This isn’t… No decent person would straight out hurt someone they’d just met. And in this sort of situation too, when you need to be able to trust each other, because you’ve agreed to… Because you’re in a vulnerable position. You get what I’m saying, right? Did he ever ask you if you wanted to stop? If you were ok?”

Sirius gave a tiny shake of his head but didn’t raise his eyes. 

“Not to mention it’s not even legal because you’re underage,” James continued.

“Legal, Prongs? Since when do I do legal? Since when do you?” Sirius was trying to get some of his usual bravado back in his voice, but James wasn’t having it. 

“I’ve never had sex, Sirius. Not with anyone younger or older.”

“Obviously I wouldn’t do younger,” Sirius told him, the tone of his voice suggesting that the mere idea of it was preposterous. 

“Moony’s younger than you,” James said, although as he said it, he suddenly realized that Sirius had never, to his knowledge, as much as flirted with anyone in the years below them at Hogwarts.

Sirius’s eyes widened with shock and for the first time during the conversation he looked truly distraught rather than defensive.

“Never mind, mate, dunno why I said that,” James tried to backtrack, “we’re in the same year even though you’re a few months older, but of course that sort of difference doesn’t matter.”

“Does he think I took advantage of him?” Sirius’s voice was suddenly raised and the dramatic quality to his voice wasn’t faked. 

“Of course he doesn’t, it was me with my big mouth not thinking things through. Taking advantage is what happened today, to you, not what you did with Remus. I didn’t realize until just now that you don’t shag people in the lower years.”

Sirius still seemed to be teetering on the edge of panic. James patted him tentatively on the shoulder. No flinching, this time.

“I mean, I think it’s good that you aren’t shagging any fourth years, it’s a good policy to have. But have you considered that you shouldn’t let anyone much older than you shag you, for the same reasons?”

“I’ve already tried most things,” argued Sirius, his usual brand of arrogance creeping back into his voice, “so it doesn’t matter if they’re older than me.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, mate.”

Sirius tossed his shaggy head in a superior fashion that made James’s blood boil. It was clear that he thought James’s arguments were just as lousy as James thought his. James drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself, trying to analyse his best friend, his other half, really. Sirius wouldn’t get help from anyone else, he realized. He should probably consider it lucky that Sirius even talked to him.

“Muggle age of consent is younger, anyway, I looked it up after your Mum decided to have a chat about shagging with me.”

“My Mum?” James began, but then he realized that was a diversion tactic. “This hardly counts as just shagging, does it, mate? Besides, you aren’t a muggle, and I reckon some big bloke whose local pisser is the Hog’s Head is not a muggle, either.”

“So you reckon I need to be celibate for the next six months until I’m of age, then I can go get all the adult cock and fanny I want again? Come off it, mate. Even your Mum insinuated that she’d look the other way as long as she didn’t have to know about it.”

James shrugged unhappily. He didn’t think it was the same when there was a big age gap, but then Sirius would be 17 and legal in the autumn. Sirius was looking quite angry and James had no interest in fighting anymore now than he had after the Whomping Willow incident. Come to think of it, Sirius was probably still off kilter after that event, not to mention him and Remus falling apart. Then there was running away from home, too. 

James sighed and stepped forward and dragged Sirius into a hug instead. It took seconds, but then Sirius hugged him back.

“Thanks for patching me up,” Sirius said reluctantly. 

“’Course,” said James. “Why did you talk about shagging with my Mum?”

“She caught me with a girl, didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, but not the talking about sex with my mother-bit.”

“Jealous, are we? Still waiting for her to explain to you how it’s done?”

“Wanker,” muttered James and wrestled Sirius onto the bed. His best mate appeared too tired to put up a proper fight, and somehow James didn’t feel quite right pinning him down and holding him in place. Instead he rolled off and laid down beside Sirius, glasses askew and with some of Sirius’s hair tickling his face. It smelt funny.

Sirius surprisingly enough crept closer to him, and after a few seconds James twisted an arm around him and pulled him into a one-armed hug. Sirius just laid there, not moving, but not pulling away, either. 

“Are you quite sure we shouldn’t..?” James began, but he was interrupted by Sirius’s voice, muffled as it was against James’s chest.

“No. It wasn’t rape, James, there was too much consent for that.”

James felt like crying, and he certainly didn’t agree. He didn’t think he could bring himself to argue, either, the words were much too crude. The whole idea was much too crude. He hugged Sirius for a bit longer instead, felt his best friend relax against him. He already thought Sirius had fallen asleep when he spoke again:

“I corrupted Moony, then? I shouldn’t have had sex with him?” The voice was uncharacteristically small, Sirius didn’t sound remotely like himself when he wasn’t either suave or filled with amateur dramatics. James could do nothing but giggle for several seconds, until Sirius pushed him hard and knocked his glasses completely off his face.

“Oi! No, I don’t think you did wrong, I mean he liked it, didn’t he? Came back for more several times?”

“Yeah, he did.” Sirius fell quiet. 

“You showed him a good time, at least you did until you fucked up with Snivellus. But there’s no need to dwell on that any longer, which I’m sure you agree with?

“Mmm.”

“You do, however, smell like several different strains of bodily fluids. Can I suggest a shower?”

“Bugger off,” Sirius muttered but he did push himself up from James and the bed and sauntered off to the showers, innate poise once more intact. 

James took off his glasses, felt the last of the laughter turn solid in his throat. He mashed his face into his pillow and cried instead. When Sirius returned from the shower half an hour later, with clean and unblemished skin, James had dried his face and put his glasses back on. Sirius pretended like nothing had happened and nattered away about James’s upcoming birthday and the gross smell of mackerel that still emanated from Peter, which was exactly what James had guessed he would do. And so, he smiled and joked away with his best friend and brother, hoping that nothing too important had gotten broken today, hoped that Sirius at least knew that James was here for him, whatever stupid shit he decided to pull next.


	75. There's nothing simple when I'm not around you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "When You're Gone" by The Cranberries.

“Remus! There you are!”

Lily and Dorcas Meadowes were both smiling and waving at him from a table in the far corner of the library. It was the only table in the entirety of the place where you could get away with some chatter, seeing as it was the furthest away from Madam Pince’s desk. Noise-cancelling spells also helped, and if Remus was not mistaken there were plenty of them about.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly and dumped his school bag on a chair, then sat himself down on another. 

He had promised Lily to come and meet the girl who liked him, the girl whose identity Lily had refused to divulge, even after he asked her with all the politeness he possessed (which, as it happened, was rather a lot). Peter had found out who it was, though, and therefore Remus was not surprised now, just awkward. Lily was staring almost disappointedly at him, and he realized belatedly that she had expected him to look suitably shocked when he saw who it was. Dorcas was an attractive girl too, completely out of his league which Remus was very aware of. Truly, it was all he was currently aware of. He tried out a look of astonishment, but he had a feeling that it mostly looked like the grimace worthy of someone suffering constipation.

“So, Remus. This is Dorcas; Dorcas - Remus,” Lily said conspiratorially, waving her hand towards each of them in turn. 

Dorcas gave him an amused look. She looked completely at ease, and she also looked as if she thought Lily the matchmaker was a hilarious comedic persona. Remus tried out a smile for her, and he found that it came out more naturally.

“I ran into Peter a few days ago, so I guess you lot figured out who Lily was setting you up with?” Dorcas said smoothly. Lily gaped and looked quite cross for all of two seconds. Then she seemingly calmed herself down and turned haughty green eyes on Remus.

“Umm, yes,” Remus said. “He did mention it, I think.”

“He bigged you up a bit, although I did get the impression that bigging other people up isn’t his strong suit,” Dorcas said. 

Remus’s stomach lurched and he wondered what on earth Peter might have said about him. The other marauders knew most of his jealously guarded secrets, and Peter was rarely tactful. After the recent debacle, Remus felt certain that none of them would ever slip up so badly again about his monstrous alter ego, but there were other things he wasn’t particularly proud of. Like his looks, his shyness, his lack of wealth and an equal lack of other, more worldly charms. His confusingly pleasurable and thoroughly ill-advised plunge into the world of shirt-lifting wouldn’t be the best topic for pleasant conversation with Dorcas, either. 

“So, er… You’re in Hufflepuff, aren’t you?” Remus said.

Lily rolled her eyes at him and Remus blushed, wondering perhaps uncharitably why she had to be here in the first place. As if there wasn’t enough pressure on him already.

“Since my first day here, yeah,” Dorcas said with a grin. She had a very nice smile, and as soon as that registered Remus blushed further, could feel it creeping down his neck. “I think it suits me. I like people, value the company of others. I don’t take my school career too seriously, either, so I reckon I would’ve been a bad fit anywhere else.”

“You study a lot with me, though,” Lily interrupted, looking as if the things Dorcas had said were a new discovery for her.

“I like you,” Dorcas told her with a sunny smile. “And getting to know you properly had to be done either through studying, through joining the potioneering club or by becoming a prefect, and the last two were never going to happen.”

“I never realized getting to know me was a goal for you,” Lily said, but she nonetheless looked rather pleased with this information. Dorcas shrugged but didn’t stop smiling.  
“And I decided I wanted to get to know Remus here, too, only that turned out to be even more difficult.”

Remus stared disbelievingly at her, then realized he was being rude and looked down at his hands instead. He had healed his fingers before coming here, because they had been in rather a state and the other Marauders had given him nasty looks all day for it. 

“To get to know you, Remus, you’d have to become a Prefect, or somehow infiltrate that Gryffindor foursome of yours.”

“And the easiest way to do that would be to sleep with Black,” Lily said icily, “and I can quite see why you didn’t feel like going down that densely populated route.”

Remus felt his cheeks grow redder; the rest of his body more uncomfortable. He had come here to try and forget about Sirius, not talk about him and his host of blasted shags. 

“Beside the point as that is, I don’t think whoever Sirius Black is sleeping with at any given time gets much of an in with the other three.”

“You’re very observant,” Remus said reluctantly, because here Dorcas had hit the nail on the head. “And completely correct, I have no idea who Sirius sleeps with, there are no formal introductions. And as for James, he knows everyone but doesn’t really hang out with anyone but us. Not even the quidditch team, really. Which leaves…” Remus stared sharply at Dorcas. She gave him another attractive grin.

“Yep, turns out the only way to you is Peter, or Lily here. I tried both.”

Lily looked suitably impressed. Remus wasn’t sure how to feel about this, about how this stranger had decided to purposefully befriend him, methodically going through the tiny number of confidants he had, looking for an in. Eventually succeeding.

“Why would you...? Why me?”

Remus had to look down at his hands again, made both into fists and then relaxed them.

“You’re cute,” Dorcas told him promptly and without sounding as if it was an embarrassing thing to say out loud. “Dunno, there’s just something about you that intrigues me. Like there’s several layers to you, and none of them bad. You seem like the kind one in your group, and of course you’re friends with Lily, here, and Lily is incredibly selective about friends as I’ve found out.”

Remus frowned, thinking it over. His brain refused to analyse what had just been said about his attributes; compliments he had been paid so easily by a complete, or at least near, stranger. Instead he thought about Lily. Lily had two Hogwarts friends who weren’t in the room with them. Severus Snape and Mary Macdonald. Neither, if Remus dared be so bold, was a glowing recommendation to Lily’s friend-picking skills. 

He looked back up. Dorcas was still looking at him, although Lily appeared to be attempting to silently get Dorcas’s attention. When Remus looked up, she turned her face to him instead and stuck out her tongue at him.

“Right, well,” Remus said carefully. “I’m… I’m not sure if I’m looking for anything… You know… But I don’t mind getting to know you a bit, you certainly seem – ah - interesting.”

“Excellent!” Dorcas said. “And I did wonder-. You’ll think me awfully nosy, but I did wonder if you’ve just come out of a relationship. You’ve been looking incredibly down every time I’ve seen you in the corridors lately. I recognized the symptoms, I think, for instance Lily here acted similarly when she broke up with whatshisname?” 

Lily frowned at Dorcas and Remus took the opportunity to viciously dig into his left index finger. Was nothing he tried to keep for himself safe from this world?

“Malcolm,” Lily said eventually, definitely withholding his surname on purpose. Remus wanted to tell her he wasn’t going to broadcast information like that to James, but then, maybe she just didn’t want Remus to know, either? Maybe he didn’t look like someone who could be trusted with secrets and dreams and failures and matters of the heart.

“But we can just get to know each other a bit, doesn’t have to turn into anything else,” Dorcas said reasonably, and Remus did wonder if this was normally how you would negotiate a relationship with someone. He had precious little experience with cultivating relationships of any kind. It probably was atypical; the way Sirius had ambushed him in the middle of the night and - No. No, he wasn’t going there, that was supposed to go away now.

“What’s your favourite subject?” Remus asked her, and even that felt phony, somehow. Like he didn’t know how to talk to people. _You don’t_ , a malicious little voice told him immediately, _you only know how to talk to people you already know like the back of your own hand._ Remus dug deeper with his teeth.

“Care for Magical Creatures, or maybe History of Magic,” Dorcas said promptly.

“But not Binns, surely?” Lily said, sounding as if she thought that Dorcas’s favourite subjects were poor choices. Remus quite agreed.

“I don’t mind him, honest. You can do anything you want during his lessons, like sleep or do your homework. But I like reading the books he sets for us, I think the course material is sound.”

“Hmm,” said Lily.

“I like Defence, best,” Remus volunteered, all the same wondering if he shouldn’t rather keep quiet. Nobody had asked for his opinions, after all. But both witches looked up and smiled approvingly at him, as if they both thought this was a good pick. Remus relaxed and hid his hands underneath the table.

“This year, I think I almost agree with you,” Lily said eagerly. “We’ve had so many bad professors; in fact I still shudder to recall third year… Anyway, I obviously like Potions a lot, because it’s my best subject, and because I get to work with Sev.”

Remus clenched his hands into fists underneath the table and tried to tell himself that he did not abhor Severus Snape. He was an unfortunate boy with unfortunate opinions who made unfortunate mistakes. That was all.

“But then I love Charms, too. It’s challenging, but the harder I try, the better I get. I know that’s always the case to some extent, but for me, Charms is the class that I really feel like every effort I make pays dividends.”

Remus looked up at the expression, pausing to gather whether or not Dorcas was familiar with it. Dorcas was seemingly doing the same to him.

“I’m half muggle,” she said proudly. Remus blushed, felt an almost overpowering instinct to cover up. It angered him when his conscious mind caught on and realized he should be proud, too.

“Yeah, so am I. My mother,” he continued, trying to sound warm. He loved his mother, she was the best. Probably deserved a better son, one who wouldn’t… He knew he had learnt evasiveness and hiding from his father, and he needed to do better and not copy him, subconsciously or not. There.

“Me too,” Dorcas said happily. “They’re divorced now, my parents, and I have half-siblings on both sides. Completely muggle on my mother’s, of course, so I spend a lot of time playing football when I’m at hers.”

“Ah,” Remus said.

“Remus doesn’t like sports,” Lily said with a wry grin.

“Really? You don’t look like a sportsman but I’ve noticed that you’re always at the quidditch matches, sometimes I’ve even seen you with a painted face!”

“James plays,” Remus explained awkwardly. “James Potter.”

“I think the whole school knows who he is, don’t worry,” Dorcas said with a laugh.

Lily almost bristled, and Remus hid one of the first real smiles of the day behind his now sadly bleeding hand. 

“He gets around,” Remus said. “Not in that way, I mean, but you know…”

“I do know,” Dorcas said fondly, combing her fingers through Lily’s dark red hair. Lily swatted the hand away in a manner that suggested she felt herself to be above the current topic of conversation. “Is it just the four of you in your dormitory?”

“Er,” Remus said, for some reason his mind, presumably led by his disgraceful prick, conjured up the image of Dorcas visiting said dormitory. Both of their lightly freckled skin casings, spread out over dark red sheets… “Yes, just the four of us.”

For some reason her skin turned paler, smoother, with virile, graceful muscle underneath.

“So it was always meant to be you four, then.”

Shameful. There was no other word for it. Those images needed to go.

“Mmm. We became friends the very first night. Train ride for Sirius and James, but all four of us had a little adventure on our first night here at Hogwarts, and we’ve somehow stayed best friends ever since.”

“No fallouts?” Dorcas asked.

Remus’s stomach lurched. He shook his head once.

“Lucky, that. They all seem quite intense, proper handfuls even. Wouldn’t have thought you were the type to put up with their type, year in and year out.”

“They have all the redeeming qualities they need,” Remus assured her, and he found that Lily too was watching him with some interest, presumably just as interested in his answer as Dorcas. Remus closed his eyes for a second, saw the stag and the dog and the rat in the Shrieking Shack, thought of the pints James bought him, of the healing-spell Sirius had found for his specific nail-biting problem, of Peter trying to comfort him when he had been feeling jealous of Sirius. 

The smile on Remus’s face when he opened his eyes was huge, this time.

“Well, my best friends are all over the place,” Dorcas said, and Remus did his best to focus back on her. “I’ve got a childhood friend who’s a muggle, who I spend a month every summer with as a rule. Got a half-brother who is a couple years younger than me, and we’ve always been very close. The Hufflepuffs in my year all get on, we usually all gather around the fire in the evenings and hang out. Don’t know how well you know any of them?”

“Not well at all,” Remus said, struggling to even remember the names of the Hufflepuff prefects in their year, let alone anyone else.

“I like Martha,” Lily said, and Remus thought that was possibly one of the prefects. Dorcas smiled approvingly at her.

“Ah, Remus, old boy, fancy meeting you here?” 

It was James, followed by Sirius and Peter; all three smiling broadly and looking eagerly between Remus, Lily and Dorcas.

 _“What are you doing here?”_ Remus hissed, head swivelling between them and the girls although somehow, he found he couldn’t look at Sirius at all. James’s smile got obnoxiously wider.

“It’s a library, innit? Open to the general public. Free to use even for the proletariat. We find ourselves in need of a book on the subject of crossbreeding magical fish, and we thought to ourselves, where might we find such a guide? The answer came to us after some hours of intense brainstorming.”

“He says hours, but I think Pro- I mean James, got it in minutes, really,” Peter said loyally and patted James on the arm. 

“I’m just being modest,” James agreed, sounding anything but. 

“Did you just refer to yourselves as the proletariat?” Dorcas asked with a grin. 

Peter was carrying James’s school bag, an exclusive one made of Chinese Fireball hide, and Sirius was wearing a purple shirt that looked to be made of fine silk. Remus realized that his efforts to keep his eyes away from Sirius were failing and he vowed to redouble them.

“I’ve got a copy of the Communist Manifesto,” Sirius said, sounding quite proud of himself. “Had to submerge it into the babbling draught we brewed last year, but it’s still readable.”

“Yeah, you tricked me into drinking that,” said Peter. “Madam Rosmerta still looks at me like I smell disgusting or something whenever we go to the Three Broomsticks.”

“Maybe she can smell a rat,” James said, giving Remus a wink, “politics can be a delicate matter as we all know.”

“How do you come to own a copy of Marx’s Manifesto?” Lily asked Sirius, and it seemed to Remus as though she was trying to ignore James just as much as he was trying to ignore Sirius. 

“Ah, I think someone who was visiting forgot a copy at my place.”

“Someone who was visiting the Black family home forgot a copy of the Communist Manifesto there?” Lily asked sceptically.

“Something like that.”

Remus, who was trying to be utterly indifferent to how the girls who had passed through Sirius’s bed leaned politically, tried to smile back at James and Peter, both of whom were fighting the giggles by the looks of it. 

“We’re not really working-class, though,” Sirius continued airily, and James threw an arm around his and Peter’s shoulders.

“You don’t say,” Lily muttered.

“We just pretend so that people will think we’re cool,” James added.

Peter nodded several times, clutching the fine dragonhide of the bag he was carrying, and Remus could tell he had completely lost the thread of conversation.

“Now Remus, on the other hand, is cool for real,” Sirius said.

“That’s right,” James agreed, giving Remus such a broad smile that he had to look away from him, too. “Coolest cat you’ll ever meet, just a charming young lad in every way.”

“Quite the catch,” Sirius said, and now Remus’s ears were deceiving him to the extent that he actually thought he heard regret rather than ridicule in his voice.

“Yeah,” Peter said importantly.

“What we came here to say is this,” James continued, and was cut off by Sirius:

“Meadowes. we’re keeping an eye on you! You treat him with the kindness and respect he deserves and there won’t be a problem.”

“I thought you came here to look for a book that tells you how to crossbreed magical fish?” Dorcas asked, although she looked quite delighted at the turn of topic. Remus buried his face in his hands.

“That too. Both. I learnt to multitask around Christmas, and Sirius here has been doing it for years.”

“I see,” Dorcas said, “well, I’ll keep this in mind as we move forward.”

Remus peeked through his fingers. Dorcas was smiling rather sweetly at him. Lily was lazily flicking through the pages of her Potions book and James and Peter were grinning from ear to ear. Sirius’s were the eyes that pulled him in though, he couldn’t help himself anymore.

Remus promptly lost his breath.

Remus couldn’t sleep that night, either. He’d read the entirety of the books set to them by Professors Scarborough, McGonagall and Flitwick, and he wondered unhappily if he’d have to take to desperate measures tonight. There were eight thick volumes on goblin rebellions and then there was their Potions book which might as well have been written in Gobbledegook for all Remus could understand it. 

With a small but emphatic sigh that signalled that what he was going to do next meant great personal hardship, Remus abandoned his pile of second-hand books and charmed his drawn curtains with a soundproofing spell. Then he put an awkward, almost apologetic, hand inside his pyjamas.

He tried to think of nothing, he really did. It felt wrong to imagine real people, people he had met during the course of his life, even people he had just seen pictures of. One person in particular kept intruding, and every time those eyes, that mouth, that… everything… showed up, Remus felt himself rush closer, meaning he promptly forced himself to dispel the unwanted image. 

Problem was, to put it crudely, he couldn’t come. Remus let out a loud huff of frustration. He had always hated this, hated how guilty it made him feel, how the rational part of his brain knew it was fine and normal and even healthy, how that still didn’t dispel the guilt. Especially not the guilt that came from the images his mind conjured up for him, things that he was rather horrified he could think up in the first place. And when they came to include other people, worst of all people he knew… 

In a last, desperate attempt, Remus tried to think of Dorcas. Her nice smile, her laughing eyes, her… But no, he couldn’t bring himself to think of her other bits. It wasn’t right, and moreover… 

Remus vocalized a shameful whimper and let go of his dick. It was going soft, now, and Remus’s head was a confused, humiliated muddle. 

Sirius’s eyes had been kind, fond, tender, all the things he craved for, all the things he had thought he had found before it all went to shit.


	76. Don't know what I want, but I know how to get it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Anarchy in the UK" by the Sex Pistols.
> 
> In case there's any punk history nerds reading this; for the purposes of the story I've changed the date of this concert with three days. It actually happened on the 30th of March 1976, not the 27th.

“Quit wanking and come tell me what you’ve got planned!” James said demandingly.

“Needy,” Sirius muttered, but he spelled the Marauder’s Map empty and stuffed it into Remus’s battered old backpack which he had commandeered for their collective use that night. He had already put on his leather jacket and in all fairness he was hot and ready to head out.

“It’s _my_ birthday,” James whined, sounding every bit like a spoiled child and pulling annoyedly at his new maroon jumper. “If you’re not throwing me a party, then what are you doing?”

“How do you know we’re not throwing you a party?” Remus’s voice asked from the dormitory door. Sirius had insisted on lending him a nice light blue shirt and brown leather jacket for the night. Remus had caved after thirty minutes fierce debate.

“I asked _everyone_ , and they all said they didn’t know of a party!”

“When did you have time to ask around, stupid git? We’ve coddled you all day today, on top of executing no less than four pranks on various students of the reptilian persuasion.”

“After we saw off the tapir on roller-skates, he told me he was going to the loo. I lost sight of him for a few minutes after that.”

“Peter, you useless flobberworm,” Sirius admonished over the noise of James’s dramatic sigh.

“Sirius,” Remus said sharply. “No harm done, right? Can’t we just get going?”

Sirius quenched down the annoyance best he could and purposefully didn’t stop to ponder the way his tummy did a backflip as his name was spoken. He closed the rucksack and threw it to Peter, who almost dropped it. Sirius did not admonish him further.

“Everyone wearing their Sunday best?” 

“Maybe _your_ Sunday bests…”

“If you mean muggle clothes, then yes.”

“Brill. And how about eye-liner, anyone else fancy some? I’m quite good at applying it, now, I haven’t poked myself in the eye for ages.”

There was a rather dense silence.

“No? I’ve got ones in lizard green, royal purple, stormy indigo and midnight black.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” James said. He was jumping from one foot to the other, like a largely potty-trained three-year-old. Peter had put the rucksack on and it even went alright with his white velour jumper. Remus was worrying his thumb with his teeth.

“Time to get moving,” Sirius concluded out loud to a collective sigh of relief. “Follow me.”

He led the way downstairs and through the Common Room, which was beginning to empty as the other students headed off to the Great Hall for dinner. As such, the boys blended into the crowd just fine, even though they were all wearing muggle clothes and Sirius was wearing some expertly applied black eyeliner. After the Grand Staircase he turned into the corridor that led away from the Great Hall, and soon they had arrived at the broom cupboard the four of them had spent a disproportionate amount of time in. 

“Apertum!”

Remus almost stumbled and fell in before his time, but the other three reached out as one to catch him. Sirius consequentially released his arm as though he had been burnt and Remus looked flustered.

The four of them jumped in, one after the other, and then set off walking two and two through the moderately spacious secret passageway out of Hogwarts. Sirius did his best to entertain James, who was visibly thrumming with energy, and who kept trying to trick Sirius into telling him what his birthday surprise was. Sirius was, as per usual, much too clever for him.

Half an hour later they tumbled out of the potato cellar and into the small alley next to the Three Broomsticks. Instead of going in, Sirius led the others out into the high street and pulled out his wand.

_Crack!_

A huge, violet triple decker bus appeared from out of nowhere, brakes grinding disconcertingly but managing to pull it into a smooth halt beside the four of them. 

“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” began a young, pimply witch who had jumped out and was looking disinterestedly at the four of them. 

“Four tickets to London, please,” Sirius said, digging out James’s money bag from his pocket. “And four hot chocolates as well, ta.”

“Three galleons and a sickle,” the witch said, looking appraisingly at Sirius through her fringe. 

“How long till we get there, d’you reckon?” Sirius asked as he put the money in her outstretched hand. 

“Within the hour, I should say. Whereabouts in London? Leaky Cauldron?”

“Nah, 100 Oxford Street, please,” Sirius said with an eager grin. The witch looked completely unimpressed, but then Sirius supposed that just meant that she was a witch. He was becoming very excited now that they were one more step on the way. 

He entered the bus last and had barely gotten through the doors before there was a loud bang and the bus lurched violently to the left. He could feel the wind on his back and had to grab hold of the nearest seat before he finally heard the door slam shut behind him. He could hear the excited voices of his friends coming from upstairs and therefore made his way up, taking two steps at a time. The bus kept swerving, cracking, and jumping forwards and backwards at a beyond alarming speed, and an elderly witch he passed on the second floor of the bus was rocking back and forth in her seat, hugging herself viciously and humming as though to calm herself down. 

“Thank fuck we don’t suffer from motion sickness,” Sirius said as he sank down in the seat next to James. They were sitting in the best seats, which was at the very front on the top floor of the bus. The view was a cracking one; with the panorama scenery changing at least every thirty seconds. It was dusk, but they could still see enough of the landscape to be able to count how many lampposts, mailboxes and muggle pedestrians that had to be magically pushed to the side or swerved around for the bus to avoid collision. 

“What are we doing in London?” James asked enthusiastically; then he immediately had to brace himself with a hand against the window to avoid smacking his face in it. The bus had jumped from an industrial town into a very bumpy country lane.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Sirius said smugly. 

“Unfair,” James grumbled, but the rest was cut short when the conductress appeared, carrying a tray with four moderately chipped mugs. Rather a lot of hot cocoa had splashed out onto the tray, but Sirius didn’t pass comment. He watched the pimply witch haughtily until she had retreated back downstairs with the wet tray, then he opened the rucksack which Peter had put on the floor between them. 

“Aha!” he said triumphantly, digging out the bottle of Firewhisky that had been the first thing he had packed. Since their mugs were barely half full, he was able to pour a healthy measure in each. 

“Cheers!” James said happily, clinking his mug together with Sirius’s.

“Happy birthday, mate!”

The Knight Bus stopped four times before the landscape turned familiar for Sirius, and by that time he was merry not just from their successful escape from school, but also from the Firewhisky. He had a feeling they were being rather loud (a couple seated a few seats behind them had been tutting for the best part of half an hour), but none of them could find it within themselves to quieten down. Remus and Peter only had a vague idea of where they were going, but just like James they were excited to be taken on a faraway adventure. 

The bus suddenly steered dangerously close to the Marble Arch, and Sirius pressed his face against the window to watch the large number of muggles, many of them headed towards Oxford Street. It was a Saturday, and most were dressed up. Sirius stared greedily at a couple wearing deliciously patterned flares and at a woman wearing a long, rust-coloured velvet coat. Some things the muggles simply did better than wizards.

“100 Oxford Street!” the grumpy witch’s voice rang from down two flights of stairs, and the boys got up on unsteady feet, leaving their empty mugs behind. 

“Turn around, Wormtail!” Sirius hissed, clumsily digging for his wand. Peter stared confusedly at him, then turned so that Sirius could tap the rucksack with his wand. It disillusioned itself nicely. 

“We can’t do magic here, can we?” Remus asked, sounding disconcertingly sober all of a sudden. He was following James down the stairs with Peter and Sirius right behind them.

“It’s London,” Sirius said dismissively, but when he saw Remus’s look of annoyance he hurried to explain himself anyway. “There’s too much magic around the centre, even though we’re out in the muggle world. The Ministry won’t know it’s underage magic.”

Remus really did look nice in the soft, buttery brown leather jacket, almost better than Sirius himself.

“Hmm,” Remus said, but he jumped out after James anyway, then looked around rapidly and in apparent shock. 

It did look quite amusing, Sirius had to admit as he jumped out after his friend. The Knight Bus had stopped smack in the middle of Oxford Street, muggle buses and pedestrians everywhere on both sides, several jaywalking across the busy road. They were able to do this because the traffic had come to what appeared to be a sudden, you might even say inexplicable standstill, with several vehicles honking their horns, some even leaning out of windows to shout abuse at each other. None of the muggles seemed to be able to figure out quite why they weren’t able to drive, the roadblock quite invisible to their eyes. 

There was a loud bang and the purple triple decker disappeared, leaving its red double decker cousins free to move forwards. 

Sirius laughed delightedly and pulled the other three out of the road and towards the pavement. There was a small queue outside the 100 Club and loud music coming from within its open door.

Sirius didn’t pause his steps as he pointed his wand from within his leather jacket and hit the bouncer standing guard with a confundus spell. He continued walking straight through the doors, and all he heard was confused mutterings from the people waiting outside. 

“I think some of the muggles are taking advantage of your spellwork, too,” Remus hissed at him, and Sirius saw some rather rough-looking young men enter behind them, walking fast as if they too were keen to avoid being stopped by the bouncer. 

“This is fantastic!” James shouted in his ear.

“Isn’t it just? I’ve wanted to come here ever since I saw an article about this place in the _NME_.” 

Sirius looked around proudly, feeling a mixture of giddiness and utter contentment. He was certainly among his people now. He could see eyeliner and long hair and tight, fascinating clothing everywhere he looked. Some colourful, but some was also in black and white, which looked intriguing to Sirius’s hungry eyes. 

The small club was packed with young people, most carrying pints or glass bottles from the bar in the corner. Many were smoking and the air was hazy and hot and smelt strongly of people. The floor was old and wooden and there was a stage, empty but for a drum set at the far end of the room. On the brick wall behind it there was a large white slogan bearing the number 100. 

“I’ll get us drinks,” Sirius said confidently, and he walked up to the bar. Getting drinks required him to use another confundus charm once four pints had been poured for him. He didn’t feel great about it this time; indeed if James had had any muggle money in his gold pouch he would have been happy to pay. His magic tended to come out strong at all times as well, and the scruffy bartender ended up looking completely out of it.

There was no time to feel guilty, however; as Sirius made his precarious way back to the Marauders between throngs of people (he had his arms around all four pints and he didn’t want to spill anything on his clothes), there was the noise of an electric guitar being plugged into a speaker, and several people shouted cheerfully in the direction of the stage.   
“Ta! Wonder who’s playing?” James said and they all craned their necks to try and see the stage.

“Something muggle I expect,” Peter informed them all in his most mature voice, but Sirius was too excited to make fun of him. 

He didn’t know, either, but the young men who were now crowded on the stage looked barely older than the Marauders and they were all wearing ripped jeans and leather jackets, hair dyed and spiky. One was wearing a short black tie around his neck, and Sirius wondered how that would look on him. They all looked dirty and un-kempt, which wasn’t generally what Sirius liked for himself, but if this was the direction in which muggle fashion was going, he would have to see if he could adapt a bit of it.

“They look like they might be quite a loud band,” Remus said, and barely had the words passed his lips before there was a stupendous, not entirely melodic drum roll. The deranged-looking man with spiky blonde hair who was without an instrument was stepping up to a microphone and cackling into it, and soon there were distorted guitars joining in.   
“Oh, this is going to be scary!” James shouted into Sirius’s ear; he sounded nothing short of delighted.

After that there was very little room for talking, and although Sirius was hoarse by the end of the night he had barely heard himself shouting. The band was loud, foulmouthed and barely in control of their instruments, but they had complete control of the crowd’s attention while they rioted around on their tiny stage in a drunken swagger that saw one of the guitarists stumble into the crowd on several occasions. 

There was a fist fight too, and Sirius got so close to it he could smell the iron in the air. They drank some more and swayed around, got completely absorbed in the muggle crowd.

The bar closed around midnight and the Marauders staggered into Rathbone Place before Sirius dared get his wand out to hail the Knight Bus. James and Peter were both extremely drunk and the conductress didn’t seem to want to let them on even though Sirius had the money ready. 

“No vomiting kids on the bus!” a loud voice rang out from the inside; one containing so much authority it had to be the driver. 

Remus turned to Sirius with a disconcertingly challenging raised eyebrow. The witch was still there, waiting for their next move, it seemed. 

He wasn’t sure why it was so hard to turn on the charm for her while Remus watched, but he got there in the end, gently chatting to her and sneaking in seductive hints and compliments until she suddenly blushed and stammered and took the hand he was holding the money in. Sirius quenched down nausea that may or may not have been curtesy of the pints of beer he had had; forced himself to whisper a low, raspy thank you in her ear while she stroked his palm until the money had been transferred into her hand. The bus driver suddenly gave out a loud, impatient snort and the witch backed away looking rather shell-shocked.

Sirius was glad Remus was able to support Peter when they stumbled onto the bus and found themselves seats in the back. He held James around the middle despite his protestations and earnest promises that he would vomit if Sirius kept touching his stomach.

“I am the anti-Christ,” Peter sang softly and out of tune, whole body slumping over once he had been dumped in a seat. James gave a resounding snore and Sirius felt his head fall onto his shoulder.

“What a night,” Remus said mildly, getting comfortable next to Sirius. They were taking up the whole back row, which seemed to be a settee of some sort. There were beds on the bus too now, and Sirius eyed the nearest one a bit wistfully. The bus was almost empty but it would have been too much trouble to be worth it to have a lie down. The bus lurched into action and Remus’s hand twitched next to Sirius’s, as though he’d almost grabbed hold of it in the commotion.

“I think that was maybe both the worst and the best music I’ve ever heard,” Sirius said.

“I’m still not sure that it was music,” Remus said. “Great night though, and I think James enjoyed himself.”

“I am an anarchist,” Peter mumbled sleepily.

“Stay awake, yeah, Peter? We’ll be in Hogsmeade soon.”

“That goes for you too, Prongs,” Sirius told his best mate affectionately. James snored loudly into his neck in response.


	77. I saw the crescent; you saw the whole of the moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Whole Of The Moon" by The Warerboys.

“I don’t even remember getting back to Hogwarts,” Peter said with a frown. “Did you actually charm me to float beside you?”

“It was a nightmare,” Remus grumbled. “You’re ungainly. James too. And that so-called band! They sounded rather similar to our caterwauling charm, only louder. Two days later and I reckon my ears are still ringing.”

“It was the worst music I’ve ever heard,” James said eagerly. “Think they’ll make it big one day?”

“Not a chance,” Remus said immediately.

“I didn’t even catch their name,” Sirius said, sounding rather regretful about it.

“Simmer down now, boys. Let’s see you change the colour of the marbles I’ve provided you with.”

Peter jumped in his chair and promptly dropped the green marble he had been fiddling with. Remus, who was sitting next to him, tried to catch it but the attempt was so clumsy he instead managed to push both his and Peter’s books off their desk. 

“Hmm,” said Flitwick, but when he turned his eyes on Remus, they became kind rather than disapproving. Peter quenched down a sting of envy; there was certainly no teacher in the school who would have named Peter as their favourite. Flitwick had liked Remus from their very first lesson; and this was despite Remus being nowhere near top of the class.

Flitwick, who was barely a head taller than the school desks, disappeared momentarily from view while he collected the books and Peter’s marble.

“So sorry, Professor! Thank you, Professor. Colovaria,” Remus said all in a rush; his last word accompanied by a timid flick of his cypress wand. His deep blue marble turned a softer shade of the same blue and Remus blushed and got out yet another stammer of an apology, which was drowned out by Sirius’s and James’s laughter. 

“Now, now, boys; Mr Potter, Mr Black. Let me see you do it.” Flitwick gave Remus a sunny smile before he turned his attention to James.

“Colovaria! Colovaria!” James sounded mostly amused and yet the charm worked effortlessly for him. He changed both his own and Sirius’s marbles into brilliant, deep ruby coloured ones. 

“Very good, ten points,” Flitwick began, but Sirius, who took James’s most every action as a challenge, flicked his wand once and made not just the two on his desk, but every single one in the room black. 

“Hey!” Lily Evans yelled, and several of the other students turned to look and see who was responsible. It made Sirius grin smugly.

“Show-off,” James said, and Sirius promptly flicked his wand once, twice, making half the marbles in the room white and the other half purple. 

“Well, it’s too fucking easy, isn’t it?”

“Language, Mr Black!” squeaked Flitwick, and Peter noted that he wasn’t looking impressed in the slightest now. “Five points from Gryffindor.”

The Charms Professor turned back to Remus and Peter, and Peter could see Sirius scowling behind his back, now drained of his previous bravado. 

“Never mind that. Let’s see the two of you give this a good go, now,” Flitwick continued kindly; he was back to looking at Remus. 

Peter gulped and gave Remus a quick glance. Remus looked equally as uncomfortable as Peter was. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do this; in fact Peter had managed to make this charm work a few times the previous week. It was more that he was terrible under pressure, and Sirius’s words, still ringing in his ears, were extremely unhelpful.

“Colovaria!” They chorused, and Peter noted that his wand flick was rather forceful, perhaps unnecessarily so. His white marble turned red before it exploded into tiny shrapnel, whereas Remus’s turned into a softer hue of the purple Sirius had just made it.

“Right,” Flitwick squeaked, shaking his fluffy head of hair to get the red glass shards out of it, “a decent effort, but you can do better. Let’s try it again, Mr Lupin, while Mr Pettigrew goes and collects a new marble from my desk. I only have a handful left, can’t think what happened to the rest of them. It’s like there’s a whole bag of them missing.”

Peter got up and collected a new one. By the end of the lesson he had managed to make the charm work without any more explosions, and Remus had both improved his charm work and chatted with Flitwick about muggle politics in Wales.

Transfiguration was more difficult, even though Peter did his best to ignore what James and Sirius were up to (changing the appearance of the cat they were supposed to vanish until it looked like a dog, then changing it into something that had both fur and tentacles and antlers). Peter and Remus were still working on a kitten, a cute white one with blue eyes and pink-beaned paws that spent most of the lesson chasing after their wands every time they tried to perform the correct wand movement. Needless to say, their kitten had not vanished by the end of the lesson.

“I’m bloody bored,” Sirius said to James when the four of them exited the Transfiguration classroom. “Wish it was the full moon tonight.”

“I’m seeing someone for lunch,” Remus said abruptly and stalked off. 

Peter gaped after him and Sirius and James turned around to stare too, both looking equally confused. 

“You need to learn a bit more tact, Pads,” James mused and began to lead the way towards the Great Hall. “Why’s he going in that direction do you think?”

“And who is he eating with?” Peter asked, having to almost jog to keep up with the other two. 

“Who do you think? Obviously it’s Dorcas Meadows,” Sirius said. 

Peter tried to get a good look at his face to see if he looked jealous or not, but he couldn’t quite tell. 

“She said she didn’t know where the school kitchens are,” Peter suddenly remembered. “Bit weird since they’re so close to the Hufflepuff Common Room, but that’s what she claimed. Maybe Moony is going to show them to her.”

“Makes sense,” James agreed. He was scrutinizing Sirius’s face, too, and presumably having a lot less trouble reading it than Peter. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Good for him?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, and this time he smiled back. “She seems a good sort.”

They settled down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to carrot and coriander soup and thick slices of freshly baked bread. 

Peter watched absentmindedly how the other two began composing a letter to James’s mum (Sirius had used up the last of James’s pocket gold to take the four of them to London, and his own he had of course given to Remus, back when they were all still walking on egg shells. James was quite shameless when it came to asking his parents for money, however, and it was clear from the humorous composition of their joint letter that they were not expecting it to be any problem to get Mrs Potter to cough up with some more). Peter zoned out while his eyes searched the Gryffindor table, attempted to find a familiar, secretive smile and shiny dark hair. She must have eaten already, or was skipping lunch, because Peter couldn’t see Pippa or Greta anywhere. It made him feel rather melancholy, and he stared at his spoon instead; filled it with bright orange soup and let it splash back down into his bowl.

“Just look at the talent over there,” James whispered to Sirius. Peter registered it even though Prongs was trying (and as usually failing) to be quiet. He gave a discreet look in the direction James’s shoulder had indicated. He could see a group of seventh years standing in between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables; Peter recognized Kathy Hopkirk, Aidan Lynch, Ariadne Greengrass and Maria Arden.

Sirius gave James a completely unimpressed look; he hadn’t even looked in the direction indicated. 

“You need to get back on the hippogriff,” James said quietly. “If sex really doesn’t mean anything to you, then I reckon you need to do it, get the next time over with. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the nature of things?”

Sirius looked absolutely livid now. Peter had to restrain himself from jumping in and asking questions; he could tell that he wasn’t meant to hear. 

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” James muttered. “But I’m here, yeah? I care, and I know you. I can tell it’s affected you more than you want to let on.”

Peter took a prudent spoonful of, by now, lukewarm soup. He had thought that Sirius was over Remus and vice versa. The past weeks had certainly been a bit awkward at times, but they seemed to be back to being friends. Peter had never thought of Sirius as the type who might commit to a proper relationship, and therefore not someone who would have reason to be jealous. He didn’t have the personality for it either, he simply didn’t seem to care enough. Did he even understand the concept of mutually loving, exclusive relationships? But that’s what this latest drama had to be about. If James wasn’t talking about Sirius being jealous of Remus and Dorcas, then Peter was prepared to eat his own hat. 

James and Sirius sat uncharacteristically quiet after their little tiff and Peter couldn’t let on that he had overheard their conversation, so he looked over the other end of the table instead. Marlene was feeding small bits of bread to Tiberius Hounslow, and many in their immediate vicinity had turned away as though the sight was a bit gross. Peter watched them, for a while. Then he looked at Lily, who was getting up from the table. She had been eating with Mary, but Mary wasn’t getting up. She was stirring her spoon distractedly around what looked like a full bowl of soup, even though lunch was almost over by now. Peter felt guilty as he watched her, he knew he couldn’t help, but there was something about the hopeless defeat in her face made him wish that he could. He barely knew her, but still. 

Lily was standing at the end of the table now, seemingly giving a stern telling-off to a third year who was holding an ever-bashing boomerang in his hand. Dorcas and Remus suddenly walked past her, both nodding to Lily as they passed. Remus looked embarrassed and uncomfortable; Dorcas rather happy. Peter saw Remus getting closer out of the corner of his eye, heading for his fellow Marauders, but he was watching Dorcas, primarily. She had stopped walking and the happiness was suddenly gone from her face. She had stopped next to Mary, and as Peter watched she bent down and began talking quickly into Mary’s ear.

“Did Meadowes like the kitchens?” James asked genially. 

“How did you know that’s where we went?” Remus asked suspiciously as he sat himself down next to Peter.

“Lucky guess -” Peter began.

“We had you followed,” Sirius interrupted.

“Yeah, we needed to make sure she doesn’t try anything untoward with you,” James said.

“Plenty of ways to hurt your pink bits if you get them out in the kitchen.”

“There’s, like… Whisks and potato peelers and baking pins and all sorts…”

“A dedicated audience, too, should you need one. They will watch if you ask them to.”

Remus buried his face in his hands.

“She seems lovely, though, and we’ve decided we approve,” Sirius continued. 

Peter stared at him in fascination, because he did both sound and look completely genuine. If it was jealousy he felt, it was completely hidden away by now. Peter turned to look at Remus instead, and his face was certainly a lot more complicated. It took Peter a while, but eventually he realized that it was the lack of happiness that stood out.

“You think she seems lovely?” Remus repeated under his breath, and Peter watched him push his hands underneath his thighs, maybe to keep his fingernails away from his sharp teeth. “She’s very nice. We’re just friends, though.”

“Did you hear that, Pads?” James drawled. “Isn’t that sweet? _Just friends_.”

“Mmm, it’s good to make new friends,” Sirius said. 

Remus didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

“You’re James Potter, right?” 

The four of them looked up; the voice who had spoken was an unknown, female one. A thickset witch with brown skin and beady dark eyes was looking intently at James. 

“Only if he’s not in trouble. If he’s in trouble, this is your man,” James said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder.

“Hardly,” she said with a snort. 

Peter recognized her now, her name was Bertha Jorkins and she was a fellow Gryffindor and seventh year.

“Do you know how much you’ve upset her?” she continued.

James looked quite shocked, glancing (this time with some actual suspicion) at Sirius. Peter thought he had a point; really if a girl was upset then Sirius was much more likely to be involved than James. Unless she had red hair, emerald eyes and a great number of freckles.

“Kathy told me everything. The anonymous letters, the information spread detailing the colour of her nighty, her favourite poster of ABBA torn to pieces, and the one with Elton John only just salvageable… There was a moustache drawn, as you very well know, and it wasn’t above his lips!”

Bertha Jorkins stared impressively at James, then glanced at the others in turn and nodded to herself.

“Sorry, but I’ve not got the faintest about what you’re… I mean..?” James turned to Sirius again, mouthed ‘have you shagged her?’ at him. Peter, Remus and Bertha Jorkins all turned their eyes on Sirius, but all they got was something between a headshake and a shrug. 

“He told me!” Bertha Jorkins insisted, and by now quite a few people sitting near them were listening in, too. “It’s always been assumed that it’s that wretched poltergeist that haunts her; steals her clothes and floods her bed and cuts a diagonal fringe for her in her sleep. But no one’s ever asked him, have they? They’ve just assumed!” She nodded three more times for emphasis, there was a pregnant pause and then: “Well, _I’ve_ asked!”

“You asked Peeves if he’s been desecrating your friend Kathy’s possessions and he told you it was me?” James asked disbelievingly. 

“Admitting your guilt at last, young man!” Bertha said, suddenly sounding a lot like Madam Pomfrey, or maybe even Professor McGonagall. 

“You’ve gotta admit, as pranks go, this is pretty ingenious on Peeves’s part,” Sirius said reasonably, although he was visibly beginning to lose his composure. “The real question, however, which I think you’ll all agree needs to be asked, is as follows: where did James draw Elton John’s moustache?”

“But exactly!” Bertha Jorkins said. “That’s just it, isn’t it? The final proof, as if we needed more.” Next she shook her head, several times, and all the while she was casting rather disgusted looks at James. 

James wasn’t exactly helping his own situation, Peter thought, since he had begun to giggle quite shrilly into his knuckles. Sirius, too, was shaking with laughter. 

Lots of people were listening in, some laughing and most looking as bewildered as Peter felt. He couldn’t see Kathy Hopkirk anywhere in the crowd, and yet he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She was famously terrorized by the poltergeist of the castle, and Peter for one had never heard of any alternative explanation to her troubles. As a matter of fact, he was sure that he had seen Peeves pelting her with jam-filled swiss rolls with his own eyes.

Bertha Jorkins, who apparently felt that her work here had been done, turned on her heel and stalked off towards the Entrance Hall with her nose in the air. 

Both James and Sirius exploded with laughter.

“Peeves drew a moustache on my poster of Wales as well,” Remus said contemplatively. “Or was that you, Prongs?”

“He only drew the knob, I think,” Sirius got out between loud barks of laughter. “I’m responsible for the hairy balls.”

“Oh, sod it all, is she seriously going to walk around claiming that I both know and have shared publicly what colour her friend’s nighty is?” James groaned, although he was still grinning.

“You could do worse,” Peter said fairly.

“Yeah, but I want to do better, don’t I?” James said and glanced furtively around, presumably hoping to catch vibrantly dark red hair in their vicinity. 

“She left with Snape after she had finished telling off the third year with the boomerang,” Peter told him helpfully. 

James scowled and looked as though he was swallowing bile back down.

“Fucking hilarious,” Sirius said, now wiping his eyes with a napkin.

“Well… As long as this is the last I hear about it,” James muttered.


	78. My heart knows me better than I know myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Black Horse And The Cherry Tree" by KT Tunstall.

“I used to have a marvellous tattoo of a Welsh Green on me left calf,” Kettleburn explained to them. “The artist used real emerald and topaz dust to get the colours right.”

“Did it move?” James asked, downing the last of his muggle beer. Kettleburn promptly tossed him another one.

“She was a lively one. Fierce little beastie.”

“Sounds like she was great company,” Sirius said, in a tone that passed for polite if you didn’t know him too well. James grinned broadly at him.

“Ruby dust for the fire. In the winter when me knackers got cold, I’d lure her up me leg, encourage her to settle on the inside of me thigh.”

James was by now shaking with the laughter he was trying to keep in.

“Then what happened?”

“Me fecking leg got burnt off.”

“Merlin’s beard,” James got out with some difficulty; he knew it wasn’t really funny, but still…

“That’s a shame, she sounds like a dear old girl. We’d’ve loved to have met her,” Sirius said. “At least you got to keep your knackers, eh Professor?”

“That’s precisely what Albus said.”

Kettleburn burped and then he reached over and got two more beers, one of which he gave to Sirius.

“Incidentally, me and James have got tattoos, too. On our right ankle. Or is it left?”

“No idea,” James said happily. “I’m too dru – I mean, I’m terrible with telling right from wrong.”

“Left,” Sirius said.

“If you say so.”

James got up his foot on Kettleburn’s kitchen table and began to untie the laces. He was still wearing winter boots, but it was getting warmer and he should switch to trainers. He struggled for a good long while, and then had to grimace as his sock was definitely smelling past it’s best-before date. Finally free of both boot and sock, he pointed triumphantly with both hands at his bare foot. There, running down his ankle, was James’s nickname in Sirius’s handwriting. 

There was a thump that heralded Sirius’s bare foot hitting the table, too, and James stared proudly at his own squiggly penmanship on his best mate’s ankle.

“P-a-d-f- what the devil?” Kettleburn broke off and stared at Sirius and then at James. He looked supremely unimpressed, but James knew better.

“Cool, huh? We did it last August, after the big lightning storm.”

James grinned triumphantly at Sirius, who returned it with, if possible, even more glee.

He heard Kettleburn mutter something that sounded close to ‘off their rocker’ and he gave his foot a proud pat before he pulled it back to the floor and began the cumbersome process of putting on sock and boot.

“Shame Peter chickened out.”

“Well, who would’ve wanted his handwriting on their foot?” Sirius said.

James hummed vaguely in response.

“I think I want more,” Sirius continued.

“Yeah? Mum’ll throw a fit,” James said happily. She wouldn’t really, but then he didn’t think she’d strictly approve, either.

“She’d care?” Sirius asked curiously, slurring his words just a little.

“What’re you lot studying in Herbology?” Kettleburn interrupted. 

James sat back up and saw that Kettleburn had turned a bit misty-eyed. He shared a look with Sirius and had another sip of beer.

“Pretty boring this week, it’s flutterby bushes.”

“Professor Sprout’s such a good teacher she almost makes them interesting, though,” James said. Kettleburn lit up at that.

“That colleen is quite something, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” James agreed immediately. “Have you seen more of her after we tried to get her come visit you?”

“Nah, she… Um, truth be told…” Kettleburn broke off and downed his beer instead.

James and Sirius exchanged another look, but James was too tipsy to pick their professor up on whatever it was he was trying to tell them. 

“She’s got you under a spell, hasn’t she?” James said good-humouredly. He knew that fluster, that tender-eyed look, he had been there himself. Was there himself.

Kettleburn muttered something into his bottle.

He had seen it before in others, too. James gave his best mate a shrewd look. He was nursing his bottle as well and staring into thin air. 

“Maybe it’s time for us to call it a night, eh Sirius? Let’s say thank you to the kind Professor and go back to the dorm, change into our jim-jams.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

James grinned and downed his beer, saw Sirius do the same. Professor Kettleburn didn’t move, and he barely even looked up when they said their good-byes. 

“What’s up with him, d’you reckon?”

“I honestly don’t know,” James said. It was a clear evening and still not quite dark even though it was getting late. James had a feeling they were past curfew already. 

“I mean, it felt like he didn’t even want to talk about her? Usually there’s no shutting him up, dear Pomona this and most precious Pomona that. 

“Maybe he’s over her?”

“Never. Not Kettleburn, he’s just like you.”

“Hmm,” James said with a small smile. He opened the side door to the castle, the one that was near the greenhouses. “You mean he’s in love?”

“Besotted,” Sirius said. “Should we go pump him for information tomorrow night?”

“I can’t, I’ve got quidditch practice tomorrow,” James said.

Sirius’s face fell, then he dug out a slightly worn piece of parchment from his pocket.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

They both leant over the map, checking where the few mobile dots roaming the castle at this time of night were.

“Bloody hell,” James said quietly. 

“Yeah. We need to…”

Sirius emptied and stowed the map back into his robe pocket and they both dug out their wands. They ran towards the corridor they had both Muggle Studies and Arithmancy in, where they recently had delighted their fellow students with the best swan-based art installation and/or prank of the century. The students they had seen gathered there on the map were unlikely to be pulling anything the rest of the school would recognize as a prank.

They were both out of breath when they got close and they slowed down as one before the last corner. They could hear faint voices now.

Panting with both exertion and worry-based adrenalin, they shared a determined look and held their wands aloft. Then they rounded the corner, each with a spell ready on their tongue. 

The corridor was all but deserted. They could hear the echo of footsteps and voices, but clearly the group was retreating to the dungeons. Except for one unfortunate straggler.

“Oi Snivellus,” James said, his voice coming out icy cold. The dark figure whipped around so suddenly you might’ve thought it had been expecting an attack all along.

James wasn’t sure why he hadn’t attacked immediately, but something about the scene was sending such potent chills along his spine that he wasn’t focusing properly anymore. 

_“Think about the dignity of wizardkind. Mudbloods are diseased and can’t be cleaned. Round them up and send them to the slaughterhouse. Destroy them for their own good; and ours.”_

Sirius slowly read the whole message out loud, and James could feel tears well together with the righteous anger pounding behind his eyes. The silvery, sinisterly shining letters were so huge they covered a large chunk of the stone wall along one side of the corridor. 

“Always knew you were a class act,” Sirius said slowly, and James could see, through the film of wetness in his eyes, that Snape looked as though he was considering returning the sarcastic compliment. They all three had their wands raised, and considering how often they hexed each other, it might be unprecedented that no one had, yet.   
“How can you..? Lily,” James got out before his voice broke. 

Snape, who had slowly been lowering his schoolbag to the floor, looked genuinely surprised for a second before he reverted to his usual, calculated malice. 

“Obviously it’s nothing to do with her,” Snape sneered. “She knows that.”

“I reckon you might be the diseased one that can’t be cleaned,” Sirius snarled, giving Snape’s greasy, lack-lustre hair and worn robes an obvious look.

“Says the snotty posh prettyboy drowning in money,” Snape hissed. “Oh wait… Not so rich anymore, are you? A bloodtraitor who has to beg for money nowadays, or so I’ve heard. On your knees like the queer you are…”

Before, James had always thought it good fun to duel Snape one on one. He was a clever opponent and it gave James quite a kick to come up with something cleverer; even when he got a bit hurt in the process. He always won in the end, or if he didn’t, then at least he could device such a fiendish prank that Snape got all but obliterated from James’s revenge. There had been a notable change after fourth year, however, and nowadays he was extremely happy to have someone on his side when he attacked Snivellus. His magic was turning from painful into lethal territory, really Snape only seemed to stop at the Unforgiveables, nowadays. 

Lights flashed and it all culminated in a potent strangulation hex Snape managed to put on Sirius. Because of Sirius’s affinity with non-verbal magic, and possibly also (although James didn’t like to think of that) because Sirius had had plenty of practice in dealing with this particular hex; he managed to disarm Snape at the same time as James got in a leg-binding spell. Snape yelped; his wand clattered to the floor a few paces away from him, and almost as in slow-motion his body toppled over and fell. He caught himself with a skinny hand, and James found himself hoping rather savagely that the skin broke.

“Finite!” James said hurriedly, pointing at Sirius. Sirius gasped for air and brought his free hand up to massage his throat.

“Regulus told us all a funny story the other day. Something about how your mother made you take your clothes off in front of your grandparents and read out a chapter from ‘Pureblood Manners, Pureblood Matters’ for them. Is that true?”

Actual fire shot out of Sirius’s wand, but to James’s surprise it didn’t seem aimed at Snape in particular. Snape’s black eyes were staring unrepentantly at them; it seemed that now he was good and caught he was actually trying to self-destruct.

Before James could think of what to say or do, Sirius had walked closer to their enemy and crouched down next to Snape’s wand. His shoe was less than an inch from it, and James could see that it worked; Snape’s eyes immediately began to flicker between his all-important wand, so close to being snapped in half, and Sirius’s face.

“Taking off my clothes was voluntary,” Sirius said, his voice so velvety soft that James had to strain his ears to hear him. “Granny and Gramps are well-known kiddie-fiddlers, so I thought I would give them what they wanted. Blood purity doctrines from the lips of fresh, incestuous meat.”

Sirius straightened back up and raised his foot, let it hover over Snape’s wand. 

“How quaint,” Snape said quietly, “is this the sort of sob-story you told Dumbledore to get off scot-free after you tried to murder me?”

“Oh so when it’s you it’s murder, yeah? But when it’s mudbloods like your best bosom friend in the whole wide world, when it’s her it’s slaughter, or destroy? Better put her down like the animal she is?”

James quenched a sob; he couldn’t stand it.

“That message is not about Lily!” Snape hissed, looking livid, and, interestingly enough, just a tiny bit worried. James remained too sick to his stomach to ponder the mental gymnastics Snape seemed to be exercising. 

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Sirius said, then he pretended to stomp his foot down. 

Snape moaned, almost pitifully, but mostly it just made James’s stomach turn even more. 

“Let’s stash him in here,” James grunted, opening the door to a very cramped broom cupboard next to him. 

Sirius put a full body-bind on Snape, and together they stashed the rigid body into the cupboard. When James locked it there was a satisfying click from the door.

“What to do about this, then,” Sirius muttered to himself, walking over to the message on the wall to inspect it. “The magic behind it is surprisingly good to be Slytherin-made,” Sirius commented after a while. “Mind you, there’s that seventh year, what’s his face? He’s quite skilled. Fawley, or something?”

James didn’t respond, in fact he felt physically too sick to watch the message, so he turned and kept guard over the corridor the other Slytherins had disappeared off into. He could hear Sirius humming softly to himself while he worked his magic on the wall. 

“That wasn’t true, was it?” James asked.

Sirius paused his humming.

“Nah. They never… I was wearing muggle clothes, I’d been off somewhere and got caught coming back in, dressed the wrong way. Mother decided it was a good time to make an example of me, make quite sure Regulus wouldn’t think it’s alright to wear jeans. Probably wanted my grandparents to see how much of a disappointment I am to her, how everything about me… Yeah.”

James closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he could see Sirius’s pale, angry, self-righteous face; round stubble-free cheeks. That first year when he had returned home from the Christmas holidays with purple and green all over his back and arms. That was the first time James had asked him to move in. If only…

“Ah,” Sirius said contentedly. 

“I like that better,” James offered, moist eyes blinking open. 

The wall now simply read _All muggleborns are welcome here_.

“Whatever your imagination is conjuring up, just stop it, yeah, James? It was never that bad. Never as bad as this,” Sirius said, gesturing expressively at the wall where the memory of the old message still haunted them.

James bit down a sharp reply and smiled sadly instead. 

“Let’s nick his bag?”

“Sure,” Sirius said. 

James stepped over Snivellus’s wand and walked over to his discarded bag. It was so old it looked more grey than black and it was worn very thin, just like Remus’s. James swallowed uncomfortably, but considering what message Snape had partaken in promoting tonight, it was easy for him to bury any guilt he might have felt. 

Sirius gave the sorry-looking bag a disdainful and completely merciless glance before he led the way to Gryffindor Tower.

They stopped to check the map once, but all was still. The Fat Lady lectured them until James had made her laugh and Sirius had managed to flash her a dazzlingly attractive smile (it took them both more tries than normally), and she became placated enough to let them through. 

Both Remus and Peter were sleeping soundly by the time they came back; with Peter emitting some delicate-sounding snores. 

“There’s only his Potions book in here,” Sirius commented, sounding disgusted by the whole thing as if he’d rather they had just left the bag in the Muggle Studies corridor. “Scratch that, it’s not even the one we use. Looks NEWT-level, and old and scruffy like he sleeps with it like a teddy at night.”

James took the book from Sirius and flicked through it. He was met by scribbles in a cramped, difficult handwriting. There was ink on at least every second page, most of it annotations to the potions. Not all, though.

“Look at this,” James said quietly.

“He’s a disgusting potions nerd, just like the love of your life,” Sirius said impatiently. “What’s new?”

“I bet this is the spell he’s been using,” James said, pointing at the word in the margin. _Levicorpus_.


	79. Moon spilling in and I wake up alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Wake Up Alone" by Amy Winehouse.

Remus woke up blinking at his deep red canopy to the anything-but dulcet tones of Lily Evans. Remus scrambled into a sitting position, which was difficult because of how tightly his sheets were hugging him. 

“USELESS, WRETCHED, SHRIVELLED-UP, BUTTON MUSHROOMS! What are you doing!? You tosser, put that away at once!”

Remus got hold of the curtain around his four poster and, despite severe misgivings, he made an opening and peered outside. Lily, already dressed for the day, had snatched up a discarded jumper from the floor and while Remus watched she flung it into Sirius’s lap. It would appear he had slept naked again and he was now sitting up in bed, sheets wrapped artfully around his thighs and just about covering the essentials. The jumper certainly helped, although it did not help Remus, whose eyes had to be forcefully wrenched away from the delectation that could be found from his friend’s groin.

When he (eventually) had his wits about him again, Lily was still mid-tirade, but instead of watching her flaming hair and face, Remus sent a quizzical look James’s way. James, glasses crammed crookedly onto his nose, was staring open-mouthedly at Lily, and for some reason he was holding the fwooper statuette he had stolen several weeks ago in his hands, almost as though he though Lily had come to take it from him. 

“You left him in a cupboard! Locked him in there, and he was hexed too, wasn’t he? No wand!”

“Technically, we never touched his wand,” Sirius interrupted, tone haughty and lazy and enough to make someone with more goodwill than Lily Evans angry.

“FUCK YOU!”

James was drooling a little, Remus noticed, and his wide eyes were nothing short of enthralled.

“You attacked him two on one, didn’t you? Shame on you! You make me embarrassed to be a Gryffindor.”

“He deserved it, Evans,” Sirius said quietly. 

Remus could tell that Lily was tempted to ask what he meant, could see her worry her bottom lip with her teeth. Remus looked over to Peter, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed in his niffler and billywig-patterned pyjamas, watching first Sirius and then Lily as though he was following a tennis match. Remus caught his eye in the middle and they shared a grin.

“I’m taking ten points from you for attacking another student, and another ten for theft.” 

Lily looked sharply between Sirius and James before she bent down, and with gentle hands lifted a worn, dirty-looking school bag from the floor. She looked inside it and seemed relieved by whatever she found in there.

“Did he tell you why we hexed him?” James asked. He didn’t look angry about the points they had lost, in fact Remus thought he looked more concerned than anything else.

“Since when do you lot need a reason for hexing other students?” 

James opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again.

“We had a good reason this time, trust us,” Sirius said. “I’d watch my back around him if I were you, Evans. His views -”

“Oh _his_ views?” Lily snapped. “Not all Slytherins are bad people, even though I know _you’re_ biased, _Black_. Besides, I don’t need advice from the likes of you, better save it for yourself. Take it out again next time you feel like hexing someone for fun, or because you think you’re so superior to the rest of us, or whatever. As I said, it’s the likes of you that makes me convinced all Hogwarts houses have both good and bad in them.”

With that, Lily turned on her heel, cradling the bag in her arms and marching towards the door. She scolded at Remus when she passed him, then turned her nose up. The door slammed shut behind her.

“Did you see she had a couple of small braids in her hair?” James said. He sounded breathless, and just like Remus he had a pillow partially covering his lap. Sirius snorted loudly and Remus found his gaze going his way again, which was definitely a mistake. 

‘Naked Sirius!’ the back of his brain piped up eagerly, “Naked boy! Skin like cream and black glossy hair and a soft, pink…’

“Well spotted,” Peter said. “What happened last night?” 

Remus listened, although he found it difficult to actually hear most of what was said He came away with renewed horror concerning the depths some of their fellow students would stoop to to terrorize muggleborns, and he also gathered that Sirius and James, for reasonings Remus didn’t quite manage to follow, had helped themselves to Severus Snape’s schoolbag.

“We have the spell he’s been using now, though,” James said smugly. 

“Oh yeah,” Sirius said and flicked his wand in Peter’s direction. There was a quick flash of light and suddenly Peter was hanging upside down from his ankles, flabby face bright pink and his baby blue eyes huge and imploring.

James laughed heartily and got his own wand from his nightside table.

“Liberacorpus!”

“It’s nonverbal, you four-eyed git.”

“Oh yeah,” James said with a frown, then muttered something under his breath that sounded more like a swear than the counter jinx.

Peter wailed loudly and nervously pinched a billywig on his sleeve.

“Are you really this shit at it, mate?” Sirius said, all three of them watching James flick his wand unsuccessfully; a scowl growing on his face.

Normally, Remus would have been delighted that James had encountered a bit of magic he wasn’t naturally good at, but he could see from James’s face that Sirius’s remark had already cut him. James had struggled with nonverbal spells just like the rest of them all year, really Remus would hazard a guess that it didn’t come easy to any of the fifth years other than Sirius and Snape.

Next thing they knew, James had flicked his wand at Sirius instead. Sirius yelped; he too was yanked up by his ankles, losing the grip of his wand in the process and it clattered merrily to the ground. 

“You want to watch your mouth next time, Sirius!”

Sirius was still naked, and his bits... Remus laughed giddily, and James immediately turned to him, wand twirling in his hand and hazel eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“Oh no,” Remus got out, ducking and almost losing his balance and falling over in his bed. 

“You’re safe,” James said kindly, and Remus looked up with polite incredulity.

“Fucking hell, Prongs, I’m going to puke all over out dormitory floor if you don’t let me down soon!”

“I’m dizzy…”

“Moon in a couple of nights,” James explained softly, before he turned his attention to Sirius and Peter. “Ah, now, where were we? Nonverbals…”

Remus felt an odd mixture of gratitude and hurt. Gratitude that James had remembered, and that never-ending hurt that seemed to crash down on him whenever it was brought to his attention that he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t whole, like them, he couldn’t always be carelessly flung about by the ankles like a normal teenage boy. Once his symptoms set in (and they hadn’t, not quite yet) he would be brittle, bowed by fever and anguish and that bone-deep ache that wouldn’t go away no matter what. Not until the monster was done with him.

There were two crashes in quick succession, and Remus looked up in time to see Sirius and Peter sprawled on the dormitory floor. Sirius seized his wand and got up quickly and gracefully, dusting off his hands on his naked thighs, all the while grinning murderously at James. Peter groaned and rolled over; he then appeared to find a piece of Earwiggle Fudge, still in its wrapper, and he set about unwrapping it and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmm…”

“Are we too late for breakfast?” Remus asked the room at large, attempting to sound like his brisk and collected public self. Inside, he was kicking and screaming and repeating ‘why me?’ at a high pitch, over and over again.

He quickly got lost in the view again, because Sirius and James were busy duelling, vicious and funny little hexes crackling in the air, merry lights flashing back and forth and usually hitting the walls or a shield charm. Remus did his best not to watch, tried to focus on the time instead. Peter’s jaws appeared to be temporarily stuck together so Remus gave him up as a bad job and made his way over to Sirius’s nightside table where the little carrier clock they all used as their alarm clock was. He crouched to stay out of the way of the flying hexes, but as soon as he did, they stopped firing. Remus couldn’t stop the furrows in his forehead from emerging, and he tried to pretend that there might be other reasons than the impending full moon and Remus’s fragility that made them decide to cease fire. 

“I tried to get your dick with the colour-changing charm, but I don’t reckon it worked.”

“Not unless you were trying to make it this fabulous, fleshy…”

“We should just about have time for a cuppa,” Remus said evenly. “And then it’s Potions… Damn.”

“I’ll pair with you if you like,” Sirius said.

Remus closed his eyes, tried to calm his warring emotions down. He could hear Sirius digging out clothes from his trunk, which was a relief at least.

“Thanks, I’d like that. It’s probably just OWL repetition, but still, if we do need to brew something…”

“Hmm?” Peter had sat up straight, looking a bit panicked. With an almighty wresting of his jaws, he managed to get his mouth open (his ears were now wiggling): “OWL repetition already?”

“What do you mean ‘already’, we’ve not even got two months until we have to sit the first one!”

“Oh,” said Peter, sounding rather betrayed. “Oh.”

“Breakfast, anyone?” Remus reminded the others. He was back by his own trunk now, giving his pits a quick whiff before putting on some deodorant. At least he had showered last night. Peter and James were getting dressed now too and Remus climbed into bed again with his change of underwear and trousers and t-shirt and school robes. The other three were chatting amongst themselves, all turned away from him like they had come to do ever since they learnt he was a werewolf. Or no, that wasn’t quite right. The reason he yearned for privacy was the scar, not strictly the fact that he was a werewolf. No, this was all thanks to the hideous brand signed Fenrir Greyback, the scar tissue that marred his hip and a bit of his waist and thigh, too. Remus was self-conscious as only he could be about it, which they knew. James and Peter were respectful of his unspoken wish for privacy, and Sirius presumably did his best. It also went without saying that it was for their benefit as well, because obviously Remus didn’t want his friends to have to witness something so ugly, either. A glimpse was probably enough to make anyone nauseous, make good people grimace in disgust… The thought struck him ever so often that they might never speak to him again if they looked too closely, thought too hard about it…

“We should nip to Hogsmeade before dinner, get Moony some chocolate for after the moon, and I believe we’re running low on Firewhisky, too? Lucky your Mum sent you more gold.”

“It’s for both of us, dickhead. And I’ve got quidditch, remember? Lambeth’s making us bring sandwiches, he’s keeping us all evening.”

“Well, fuck him,” Sirius said heatedly. “You’re just playing Hufflepuff, aren’t you? Got it in the bag already.”

“That’s not very fair,” James said. “We’re playing before the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game, and if we don’t win by enough points there’s a real risk that Slytherin-”

“So let me cast that migraine hex we found on Regulus! I’ll use the cloak, make sure it hits him just before he gets on his broom. He won’t stand a chance of catching the snitch, and-”

“Not on, Padfoot,” James said sternly. 

Sirius gave him a blank look.

“This is quidditch we’re talking about, I need to win it fair and square.”

“ _Fine_ , I’ll go get chocolate and booze by myself, then,” Sirius said haughtily, in what Remus thought was rather a non sequitur. 

“Why not take Moony and Wormtail with you tonight, you could all make a nice outing of it,” James suggested, sounding almost gentle. “Man, I really need some food in me now.”

“I’m ready!” Peter said eagerly from behind Sirius’s elbow. Sirius rolled his eyes but led the way out of their dormitory. James turned to Remus once their friend’s back was turned and gave him a friendly wink and grin, which Remus did his best to return.

Breakfast was delicious as always, although Remus still had trouble finishing his bowl of porridge, which he had enhanced with liberal amounts of butter and honey. His appetite had always been smaller than the other Marauders’, indeed the only thing he could eat just as much of (if not more) was chocolate. And tea, of course, there really was nothing like it to get going in the mornings.

Potions class was a nervous affair for two reasons. Slughorn had decided that they should revise and brew the fourth-year potion they had had the most trouble with, which for Remus meant any and all of them. Sirius picked Skele-Gro, which Remus had an uncomfortable feeling was because they both knew it played an important part in Remus’s life. He had had to digest the disgusting potion a fair few times, although admittedly not once since his friends became animagi. (The wolf was almost docile, nowadays, if he was to believe the others. He was achy and disoriented come sunset, but there were no broken bones anymore, barely even bruises.)

The second reason, of course, was Sirius.

He had to make sure he didn’t touch him at all while they worked, something Sirius luckily seemed to put just as much effort into as Remus. Unfortunately, Remus had several other senses besides touch, and even if he diverted his eyes from Sirius’s handsome face or hummed to block out the sounds of him breathing; there was still the smell of him. Sirius smelled so unfathomably good. Soothing, somehow. Remus didn’t want to consider why the smell was so potent for him, why he felt so drawn to it. No matter how many noxious fumes there were, rising from the dozen or so cauldrons in the room; they all faded into the background. He smelled Sirius, and his breaths were deep, measured and glorious. 

“How far have you gone with Dorcas, then?”

Remus groaned. Sirius gave him a warm smile, eyes a little sharp, maybe, but not the way Remus thought they should look at all.

“She seems like a kind person,” Sirius said quietly, “like you,” he added, making it sound like a throwaway comment. 

Remus’s cheeks burned.

“You need someone who’ll be kind to you, yeah? Deserve someone who’ll be good to you always. No matter what.”

Remus didn’t answer. He felt clammy, almost feverish. Maybe the wolf was knocking on the door already.

“I won’t pry much, but you can ask me if there’s anything you’re wondering about. Contraceptive spells, or – I dunno. How to find her clit.”

Remus buried his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this was the beginnings of a panic attack or if he was going to faint or cry or what. Sirius laughed quietly at him.

“It’s actually not that difficult, it’s the top button, really. Best you can do is ask her where she wants your hands to be, yeah? How soft or hard your fingers should be for her to feel good. Or your mouth, but I don’t know if you-”

“Ah, this looks like it’s coming along nicely, Mr Black. You’re nearing the half-way stage of a correctly brewed Skele-Gro potion, ideally you might like it to be a shade lighter. Can you two boys think why that is?”

Remus emerged from behind his hands, his face probably a rather spectacular shade of ruby red. Slughorn wasn’t really looking at him, but then he rarely was. Sirius, on the other hand, was definitely someone Slughorn looked at. He had asked both Sirius and James to join his dinners and other little club activities many, many times and they had almost never accepted. Slughorn was more gushing when he spoke to James, though, and Remus thought it was almost certainly because of the slight differences in manners and personality. Sirius was crasser, cruder, had a bit of a temper. Brilliant they both were, however, and Slughorn seemed completely engrossed in Sirius now, watching him expectantly.

Their potion (which Remus hadn’t touched, so far) was dark green and there were little wisps of smoke beginning to rise around the edges. 

“Maybe to see it more clearly? In case the scarabs and the pufferfish fins get clotted.”

“Just so, Mr Black, just so. Yes, because of the steam that thickens as it stews it becomes even more difficult to spot later on if there has been clotting. I’ve found that a drop of sting nettle essence in the finished potion will clear up any congealed lumps, should they occur.”

“Thanks for the tip, Professor.”

“Ah, and there’s Mr Potter. James. I’ve got a few of the older students coming for supper on Saturday, why don’t you and Mr Black…”

“You following what we’re doing at all?” Sirius asked in an undertone.

Remus shrugged, first, then shook his head. Did he ever?

“Well, the scarabs have exoskeletons, as you know. For this potion they needed to be cut into quarters, something about the cross-shape mimicking the human body, yeah? If you pull your arms out. The pufferfish are just nasty if you ask me, their slime’s something to do with bone marrow and blah blah. And chomping cabbages because fuck it, why not?”

Remus shrugged again.

“I might give teaching a go, once I’m out of here.”

“You reckon?” Remus said sceptically. 

“Obviously not potions, you numpty. Sex ed.” Sirius grinned evilly at him and Remus blushed and blushed. “Have you been to her Common Room yet?”

Remus gave him a sharp look, just to check that it wasn’t a euphemism. But then again, Sirius certainly wasn’t gentlemanly enough to switch out the dirty words for florid euphemisms.

“Umm, no, not yet. She wants me to come over on Sunday, they’re having a WWN night. There’s a live concert broadcast.”

“What band?”

“Dunno, didn’t ask.”

“Well, will your brains still be mush on Sunday? Saturday’s out for you, obviously.”

“My head will be fine,” Remus said with a frown (full moon was on Friday), “I’m more worried about, you know…”

“About getting hard?” Sirius asked, looking bewildered.

“ _No!_ ” Remus hissed, pulling at his own hair in desperation. “Not everything’s about… Merlin’s beard! Sirius, I’m worried about meeting her friends!”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Remus muttered. “Is sex really all you think about?”

Sirius’s eyes turned grim, much, much grimmer than Remus had seen them recently. Steel and ice and harsh wintery winds. He leant over their potion and stirred energetically counter-clockwise, muttering under his breath:

“Yeah, that’s me all over. Fucking’s all I can have; all I care about.”

There was a loud roar from their cauldron and suddenly there were emerald flames licking up the sides, almost engulfing Sirius’s hand and the ladle he had been stirring with as well.

Sirius didn’t react; Remus yelped and tried to push Sirius away from the danger, but the flames had disappeared just as abruptly as they had emerged, leaving the potion covered in swirling, light grey smoke. 

“Means it’s done,” Sirius said lazily. He was sulking now, Remus could tell that, but it didn’t stop his heart from beating painfully in his chest. He hated the thought of Sirius hurt, he realized, and he sternly told himself that this was normal for a friendship. Totally normal.

“Aren’t you two finished by now? Professor Slughorn said we are free to leave as soon as we’re done with our potion.”

James flung himself down on their table, almost knocking Remus’s jar of scarabs off, and Peter appeared by his side, a happy, almost adoring smile plastered to his face.

“One sec, need a phial…” Remus mumbled, digging through his school bag.

“You should have seen Prongs’s method for the Wit-Sharpening Potion,” Peter told them, “instead of cutting our ginger root with a knife he -”

“I’ve got one here, Remus, don’t bother.”

Remus looked up in time to see Sirius conjure up a new phial which he filled with their dark green steamy, smoky potion. It looked like the essence of a misty forest, Remus thought, or perhaps like the aftermath of a burnt one. 

“- and that, somehow, cut down the time it needed to stew by half!”

“My dad taught me that little trick,” James said modestly. “It’s all to do with balance, you see. The recipes we’re supposed to follow are all perfectly balanced, but if you purposefully make them more volatile, you end up with a much shorter brewing time.”

There was an angry huff behind them.

“Not to mention you might make it explode, or freeze, or completely evaporate in the process! Skewing the balance of a potion is not something children should play with, Potter.” 

Remus didn’t dare look up; Lily sounded furious, although it was more likely to do with the altercation they had had earlier in the morning than with his experimental potioneering. 

“I just poked some holes through the bits of ginger to make them more -”

“You might have caused an explosion, Potter! Just because your father is a renowned experimental potioneer, it does not mean that _you_ -”

“Cut it out, Evans, no one’s causing an explosion here except for you,” Sirius said haughtily. Remus cowered in his seat, and he saw James do the same, still splayed over their work top.

Instead of giving Sirius the satisfaction of losing her cool and screaming; Lily stuck her hands in her robe pockets and drew a calming breath. Remus couldn’t see her face, but somehow he could still feel her menacing look grazing him on its way to Sirius. Then he realized it was a spell, because Sirius made a muffled noise, clearly the beginning of speech, but didn’t get anything that could be recognized as words out.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lily said loftily. 

“Actually, it’s _kneazle_ -” began James, despite how Remus was rapidly shaking his head, trying to communicate to James that Lily’s was the same saying but for muggles.

“If I hear of either of you doing anything in a cauldron that can put the rest of the class at risk, I will make personally sure that you get a lovely series of detentions where you sort out rotten flobberworm mucus from fresh secretions, toad bile that’s gone too acidic from the rest, pickled squirrel brains from -”

“Thanks, we got it,” James whispered, sounding almost meek.

Remus dared to look up, finally, now that Lily’s steps were retreating. James was staring after her with huge puppy eyes behind his glasses and Sirius had possibly never looked so furious. He had his wand out and was clearly trying to undo the charm Lily had put on him, but it didn’t seem to be working. Most silencing charms were designed so that the counter charm needed to be verbal, which meant that despite his talent for nonverbal magic, Sirius would need help with this.

“Finite,” Remus said gently, and Sirius grimaced and appeared to chew on his own tongue for a second.

“Cheers. What fucking spell was that, d’you reckon? It felt like my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth!”

“Maybe it’s one of Snivellus’s, there were a few in his book,” James said dully. “I should’ve known that that’s the muggle version of that saying, do you think she noticed? Will she be upset that I tried to correct her? Maybe I should try to catch her up and explain -”

“Absolutely not!”

“Bad idea, Prongs.”

“Let’s get this to Professor Slughorn so that we can leave, it’s just us and Dotty and Azalea left.”

Remus packed up his stuff and left with the other three. They had Care for Magical Creatures next, which meant he would have an hour to himself. He had an Ancient Runes translation he should get started on, because his mind would take a turn for the worse shortly with the approaching full moon looming over him. He would be alright again by Saturday evening, so even if he did see Dorcas on Sunday it meant he could also put aside some much-needed time for his homework before next week. He really wasn’t happy about having to meet Dorcas’s friends, though, and a huge part of him wanted to just come up with an excuse, say tell her that he needed to spend some time with his studies, his up-coming OWL:s, that he didn’t have time for a… 

And even if he were to try this out, he still had no idea what to say to Dorcas’s friends. Dorcas was difficult enough to talk to, what on earth was he supposed to say to her friends? A large group of Hufflepuffs he had never, to his knowledge, spoken to in his life? He wasn’t social, he didn’t have casual acquaintances, he had never learnt to mingle. What was he supposed to talk about with them? What did people talk about, people who neither knew each other’s secrets, nor shared prefect duties? Could he say no to Sunday and still have a shot at getting to know Dorcas better? Become her friend, or maybe even more?

A surprisingly large both stubborn and vicious part of him wanted to try out the ‘more’ alternative. He had a bad feeling that this part of himself was the part that was angry at Sirius. Angry and hurt that he was no longer experiencing the benefits of having Sirius invite himself over constantly and casually into Remus’s bed. That part wanted to punish Sirius as much as Remus was currently being punished, wanted to see Sirius hurt. No, not hurt, Remus corrected himself. Jealous. He wanted Sirius to be jealous.

Peter had said that Sirius didn’t understand jealousy, and even if Remus thought that there might be something in that, he also realized that there was no reason for Sirius to be jealous at all. Jealous of Dorcas because she was allowed to try out what Sirius had already had? Clearly, he had never felt the way Remus did in the first place, clearly, he had done it all for a bit of convenient sex and some man-on-man experimentation. Fact of the matter was that Sirius could get that just about anywhere, and certainly from participants who looked better than Remus. Participants who were more attractive and had less hang-ups. Really, being naked with Remus had probably been a bit of a nightmare for Sirius. He had handled it well at the time, true, but surely he had found it both off-putting and annoying; the lack of confidence and poise, the way his skin looked, the way his body was… Ruined, there was no polite way of putting it. Remus’s body had been ruined since childhood. Sirius at the very least appreciated straight-talking, so maybe Remus should try that out, too. 

“Bye,” he said, realizing suddenly that the others were saying their temporary goodbyes to him at the top of the Grand Staircase, and that he was supposed to part ways and go do his homework in a secluded corner somewhere, wait for the other three to come back and then join them for lunch. All three were giving him lingering looks, and all three looked vaguely worried. Remus gave them a brisk wave, cursing his own inattention. He shouldn’t sink too deep into his own bubble while he was with them, sometimes they noticed. 

Remus turned into a corridor which seemingly just led past some toilets, but which he knew led to a secret room with a nice view of the lake and a solitary desk with a reasonably comfortable wooden swivel chair.

“Remus!”

Dorcas, emerging from the girls’ bathroom, sounded absolutely delighted, which Remus tried not to second-guess. Her brown hair was gathered in a knot on the top of her head and her smile was broad and attractive.

“Good to see you,” Remus said, analysing as he did whether or not this was a lie. It was a close call.

“Free period? Me too! I was thinking of going outside to do some homework in the courtyard, but I’m not sure if it’s warm enough. It’s certainly sunny, but sometimes there’s quite a strong wind. Mhairi, one of my girls in Hufflepuff you know, said we should seize the day whenever it’s sunny, soak up the warmth. But she is from around here, and I reckon the whole concept of warmth might depend quite a lot on where you grew up... Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Bit nervous.”

Remus almost blurted out a bewildered and semi-accusatory ‘ _you’re_ nervous!?’. She was looking into his eyes, mostly, but occasionally her gaze would flicker a few inches lower…

“There’s a decent room for studying back here,” he offered quietly, then led the way around the corner on legs that almost shook. Obviously, he was the nervous one here, how could she…?

“What a beautiful room!” Dorcas said, sounding amazed. Remus blushed deeply and thoroughly.

“We found it a few years ago, I believe it was Peter who realized there had to be a room here from something he overheard a ghost say. He is terrific at finding stuff out in secret, he can be small and unobtrusive, and others never realize he’s there at all… Anyway, what I meant to say is that we found the brick you twist to get the hole in the wall to open quite quickly after that.”

“It’s rather like a panorama,” Dorcas said quietly. 

Remus nodded and looked out as well. They weren’t high up, indeed Remus wasn’t very fond of heights if he thought too much about them while he was high up, and so he very much appreciated this room. They could see the whole of the lake, and because of the moderate but not quite triggering difference in height, it appeared as if they were on the lake. It was blue today, with white swirls and froth where the wind was playing with the waves. The mountains in the distance were clearly outlined, barely any clouds at all in the sky.

“Did the four of you have anything to do with the message beside the Muggle Studies classroom this morning?”

“Um. I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“Well,” Dorcas said softly, “whatever prompted its creation, I’m very grateful to whoever did it. I know quite a few muggleborns, and all of them had positive things to say about it, too. Sometimes ideas from that odd political movement seems to bleed over into things here in school and it creates an unfortunate atmosphere.”

“I would argue that it’s becoming quite a big problem,” Remus said. “That movement you’re talking about is gaining a lot of traction, more followers, even some in this school if I’m not mistaken.”

“Lily said the same, actually. I’m not very fond of politics, I’d rather we all just got along.”

Remus opened his mouth, but Dorcas held up a hand to stop him.

“I know it’s not as easy as that. I do. I’ve changed my mind recently, you might say that Lily set me straight, actually. I think it is something we do need to stand up for, even though the idea is very foreign to me. Fighting against ideas that are so ridiculous I can’t understand anybody taking them seriously. But some apparently do, so… I wonder if Lily’s seen that message downstairs already, bet she loves it.”

“We should ask her if she thinks the ends justify the means,” Remus muttered, which got a blank look from Dorcas. 

“Anyway, I got the impression that the professors whose classrooms are down there aren’t in a hurry to remove it.”

“Good,” Remus said.

Dorcas took his hand gently in hers and Remus found himself turning, mingled anticipation and fright zipping down his spine like electricity. He had to bend his neck quite a bit, and to his embarrassment he heard a joint crack in his back when he did. That seemed to help Dorcas, however, because she smiled at the noise and took a steady grip on his shoulders, rose onto her tiptoes. 

Her mouth was soft and careful. A bit curious, too, and Remus opened his mouth to let her explore. His hands felt clumsy and huge, trembling by his sides because he didn’t dare touch her. In fact, he wasn’t altogether sure that he liked her hands on his shoulders, and oh dear, no, what was she doing? He wrenched his eyes open, stared at the tender row of her eyelashes, fluttering like butterflies against her cheeks. 

Dorcas hummed softly into his mouth and her hand was definitely moving down, now. That was his chest she was touching, and that was his waist. No… No… No, he couldn’t.

Remus stumbled back, his eyes wild and a worried growl building in his throat.

“LOONY LOOPY LUPIN! LOONY LOOPY LUPIN HAS A PRETTY KISSY FRIEND!” 

There was cackling and wet fart noises echoing in the room as Peeves the poltergeist bounced from wall to wall, holding a pale pink whoopee cushion in each hand and pressing them in turn. While Remus goggled, utterly horrified, Peeves began to make a kissy face each time he pressed on a cushion, giving his kisses humiliating sound effects, dark eyes set alight with malice.

There was a nervous giggle from Dorcas, and Remus turned to her, almost managing to catch her eye before instinct took over. He stumbled, almost fell on his face, but he was off, running to the secret door in the stonewall, fleeing the scene while Peeves began to chant ‘Loony Loopy Lupin!’ again, each word accompanied by a wet raspberry.


	80. You're dirty sweet and you're my girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Bang a Gong (Get it On)" by T. Rex.

Sirius pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stashed it into the rucksack. He stretched his arms high in the air and felt his body thrum with energy and the need for something more. The school grounds looked boring and deserted. He was back from his solitary Hogsmeade trip, having picked the secret passageway that ended up in a shed for wheelbarrows and spades and empty ceramic pots located behind the greenhouses. This was the second time he’d gone alone in just a few short weeks, and he felt like James was to blame. Quidditch three nights in a row, indeed. 

He’d borrowed James’s cloak and Remus’s patched old backpack to be able to transport his bounty comfortably. James always shared and Remus was in no state to use his rucksack for anything now that the moon was exercising its vicious control. Last Sirius had seen him he had been a trembling, mute lump underneath the covers of his bed. They’d almost had to carry him back from Transfiguration (the last class on Thursday), and there was no way they were letting him go to classes the next day. 

The small mercy was that the nights were getting shorter and so, too, the hours that Remus had to spend as a werewolf fewer. He would be comparatively less tired come Saturday, and of course he would have less time to hurt himself while transformed. Not that he really did, anymore. 

The wolf was a delightful little thing, at least according to Padfoot who had quickly made friends with it. Considering how the whole lore on werewolves went, it was an oddly timid creature at times, and Sirius wondered if that was Remus shining through. The wolf still had its unreasonable aggressions and fright-induced temper tantrums like you would expect from it, but all in all it was a surprisingly easy creature to herd between them, or gambol around the forest with.

“Sirius, can I bum a fag off you?”

“Sure,” Sirius said, looking around in surprise. He supposed it was really to be expected that he would run into Marlene a lot; not only did they share a Common Room and most classes, but they also moved around the school after hours, seeking shelter for clandestine little trysts in broom cupboards and empty classrooms. Right now she was alone, though.

She stopped in front of him, the sleeves of her school robes rolled up to reveal slender wrists and her long blonde hair loose and catching playfully in the breeze. She was extremely good-looking with a tan, Sirius thought, but at the moment her winter skin was all she had to work with.

“I’ll be on the rag by tomorrow, and I feel absolutely dreadful.”

“Yeah? Still get those awful cramps?”

“Spliffs help,” Marlene said with a wicked little smile. 

“And fucking,” Sirius said slyly, digging through his pockets for cigarettes and lighter.

“That’s right, you were unexpectedly helpful with that as I remember it.”

“Mmm.”

“Lily’s working on creating a potion without side effects for it, there’s a few of us who get it bad once a month.”

“I know,” Sirius said. Marlene quirked an eyebrow at him, but fortunately didn’t challenge him.

“No sex for me on this period, though. I broke up with Tiberius.”

“Did you?” Sirius said. He put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them with his muggle lighter. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest. Marlene’s boyfriends never lasted past a month or two. 

“Cheers,” Marlene said as he handed her her cigarette. “Yeah, it wasn’t working for me. Have you been with someone who needs to be dominated in bed constantly? It was even spilling over into other things, like he wanted me to feed him at the table and make him not wear underwear to class and stuff like that. Sorry, probably too much information, but I know you won’t share what I say with other people.”

Sirius tried to shrug the words off but found he couldn’t. His insides felt frozen, all of a sudden, just the idea of controlling, being controlled, it just… It spun around his head, like a ball of yarn, becoming burly and suffocating, filling up space. How come people asked for it, didn’t they see how wrong it was? They couldn’t truly like it, could they? Surely there was something wrong with people like that, like Bellatrix was fucked in the head. Like the man who had… Sirius had been an idiot, hadn’t he? Only had himself to blame.

“I trust you,” Marlene went on unsuspectingly, taking a drag on her cigarette and then tapping it with a slender finger and watching the ash fall to the wet new grass beneath her feet, “honestly, it’s much easier to talk to you than it is to any of my girlfriends.”

Marlene frowned, and Sirius wondered how many good girlfriends she actually had.

“I feel honoured,” he drawled, attempting to sound like his usual unruffled self.

“You’re the longest relationship I’ve ever had,” Marlene continued brightly, and now Sirius was taken aback again. Because _relationship_...? 

But maybe she was right, he realized with a pang, maybe relationship was the right word to use. Her longest and his only romantic relationship, or was it? It probably didn’t matter that they had been kids, and it certainly didn’t matter that there had been no passionate feelings involved. It had all been terribly innocent, if you discarded the fact that they had had lots and lots of sex, because it had been a laugh to both of them. A laugh and an educational opportunity and certainly an ego boost. Mainly a laugh, though. 

“May to, what, September? October?”

“I don’t remember anymore,” Sirius confessed. He recalled the summer most vividly, because Marlene remained the only friend he had who had ever visited Grimmauld Place.

James had come to pick him up once, but he hadn’t seen more than the doorstep. Marlene had actually been inside, half a dozen times at least until they were caught and had had to switch to Marlene’s place to get off instead. 

He’d shown her around once when his parents and Regulus and even Kreacher had been out. Not all the rooms, there were some that it really wasn’t advisable to show to other people. Rooms that contained bad things. Cursed things. But Marlene had seen a lot of it, had seen the place he had grown up in. She had tried to laugh at Grimmauld Place, too, and that, right there, was possibly the best thing about Marlene. She was always up for a laugh.

“I never asked, what did your dad do to you after he found us?”

Sirius took a long enough drag on his cigarette that his lungs burnt. Orion had come upstairs unexpectedly that last time. Sneaked inside without knocking like he always did, because no locking charm was ever cleverer than him. Sirius’s father was the master of building-based protection spells. 

He had likely stood there and watched for a bit, the great big sicko, before he made his snide comment. They had both yelled (or laughed?), covered themselves up… Sirius couldn’t remember how he had been punished for it anymore, or maybe Orion hadn’t bothered? Marlene was a pureblood witch, after all, or possibly a half-blood. His father had insinuated that there was something wrong with his head since he was sexually active at that age, but that had just been an attempt at psychological warfare. And Orion was a mere beginner when it came to that in the family. He had found it infinitely worse when Sirius started having sex with muggles and muggleborns; that had been treated much more severely than as mere feeblemindedness. 

“Why would he have done anything to me?” Sirius said. He met Marlene’s gaze unflinchingly, because this wasn’t something that fazed him much anymore. His father had never hurt him the way his mother had. Certainly not the way Bellatrix had.

“Oh, just an impression, the way he looked at you… He called you a mud-stained changeling, didn’t he, that was his only comment while I was in the room. And his first words when he escorted me out was to ask me for my last name. I know you come from a hardcore family, but I mean, come on!”

“Yeah, right,” Sirius said. 

“Bet you love living at the Potters?”

“I do, actually,” Sirius said, warming up immediately. “They’re very decent people. His Mum is a sweetheart, I can really count myself lucky. Your parents seemed alright too, though?”

“Like you, I’m the black sheep of the family,” Marlene said with a broad grin. “They’re very kind, polite people. Unassuming and a bit shy. You might have noticed my sister Mirabelle? In Hufflepuff?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“My point exactly. They’re good people, my family, but wallflowers to the last.”

Sirius was about to comment on how they possibly had different ideas on the meaning of being the black sheep of the family, but he took another drag on his fag instead. Marlene was the one who came from normal, not him. Sometimes he forgot.

“Did they give you a hard time for being with me? I’m probably their least favourite boyfriend of yours.”

“Ha! What you are is full of yourself! They’ve not met very many to be honest. It’s true my Mum was relieved when she found out I had moved on from you, but she never said so that summer. There was some humming and hawing, I reckon they knew they were supposed to have a talk with me, but they couldn’t quite bring themselves to do it properly. Just before term started again I got an ‘is he treating you right?’ and ‘are you being safe?’ and then I reminded them that I can take care of myself, which they agreed with.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Sirius began, but Marlene interrupted him.

“Sorry, I’ve got to ask since I’ve got you alone…”

“Hmm?”

“Your break-up. How are you feeling?”

“What are you…? I wasn’t in a relationship. I reckon the only relationship I’ve ever been in was with you.” Sirius said it softly, the words somehow scraping his throat raw. But he was just being honest, wasn’t he?

“Professor Scarborough had a love bite on her neck today,” Marlene said carefully, almost bracingly. “Dotty and Lily saw it too, maybe you did as well? She must have someone… new.”

“Right,” Sirius said noncommittally. Marlene was still staring at him with unusual tenderness, as though she had been the bringer of bad news. Then her eyes flickered to the side of him.

“There’s Potter!” Marlene said, “OI! POTHEAD! I heard Puddlemere’s Quirke dropped the quaffle four times in their last game, you contemplating suicide yet?”

Sirius turned his head and saw James, whose arms were slung around Aisling and Amanda, look up with an almost manic grin on his face. Aisling and Amanda gave Marlene an identically wary, rather disapproving look, and further back Tony Lambeth was staring daggers at Marlene, and indeed at Sirius, too. Sirius decided to blow him a kiss before he turned back to Marlene, listening to the sure, fast steps of Prongs running their way. 

“The Harpies got lucky, McKinnon, we’ll wipe the floor with your lot next time!”

“You smell,” Sirius said, because James has descended on him and was now hanging off him, still in his training gear and with his broom in the other hand.

“I’ve got a date with the Prefects’ Bathroom,” James said happily, now nuzzling into Sirius’s neck. “You smell nice.”

“Not for much longer,” Sirius said irritably, although he maybe was playing up how annoyed he actually was.

“That fancy cologne of his,” Marlene said with a nod, “how come you have the password to the Prefects’ Bathroom?”

“They’ve only just changed the pass phrase, word is that someone sneaked in there and put a spell on the tap that makes raspberry soap. Floating penises everywhere, just _everywhere_ , imagine, and they simply felt they had to change the password. Anyway, I asked Remus this morning, when he was – he’s feeling a bit under the weather, wonder if it’s allergies. He was mostly asleep and let the password slip.”

“It’s a shame he’s so sickly, must be difficult for him. His mum is poorly a lot as well, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, he reckons she’s taken a turn for the worse. She’s such a dear, and a wicked artist as well. Sent me this drawing for my birthday, it’s brilliant.”

The three of them had begun walking up towards the school. The sun was going down behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest, painting the grounds orange. 

The rest of Gryffindor’s quidditch team had gone in already and it was just the three of them. Marlene and James began bickering about the merits of the Holyhead Harpies new Keeper, and Sirius felt some of the unease melt away. Marlene and James were uncomplicated people, easy to deal with. He’d been on his guard ever since that accursed one-on-one session with the geezer from the Hog’s Head, actually some time before that, too. The failed prank on Snivellus, and of course he had been stressed out about Remus, hadn’t he? Lovely, sweet Remus who deserved the world, more than ever now Sirius had hurt him.

“What’s the deal with Lupin and Dorcas Meadowes, anyway?” Marlene said while they walked through the deserted Entrance Hall. “Peeves is an arsehole, but I’m assuming they actually are an item? Remus got as red as a beetroot when Peeves interrupted breakfast yesterday, singing about them snogging, like I’ve literally never seen anyone get so red in my -”

Splash! 

There was tomato-smelling splatter going everywhere, and loud, loud laughter ringing around them.

“Fucking slag!”

Sirius had his wand out in a second, crushed tomato dripping from his hair, his hand, his robes, and he sent off an instant diarrhoea-spell just as James got up a shield charm. There were eggs breaking against the shield charm not a second later. 

“Blood traitors! _Slut_! Disgusting poofter!”

Words rained down on them, there was nothing the shield charm could do to stop that. Sirius sent off more hexes, most missing but some hitting a target. There were five or six Slytherins two landings above them, and greasy black strands of hair were unsurprisingly visible amongst the copper and sandy and chestnut. 

There was a satisfyingly loud yelp and then the sound of someone trying to keep down vomit. 

“Gotcha!” Sirius shouted.

“They’re going,” Marlene said, sounding relieved and looking rather shell-shocked. All three of them were covered in tomato juice with added pulp, but Sirius knew that it could have been a lot worse. They had not seen this one coming at all, had been walking along without a care in the world.

“We need to get him!” James said affrontedly, he had taken off his glasses and was trying to wipe them on his already tomato-covered arm, and Sirius didn’t need to ask him who he was referring to.

“We’ll get them all,” Sirius said.

“Does this happen to you a lot?” Marlene asked.

“Define ‘a lot’.”

“They very rarely get us,” Sirius said haughtily, refusing to feel embarrassed about the tomato, some of which he was pretty sure he could feel sloshing around in his trainers.

“True. They’re rarely clever about it, usually there’s blood, bruises and not much else.”

“I got a rare treat then, you mean?” Marlene said. She was about to burst out laughing again and Sirius shared a relieved look with James.

“I’ll need to wash my broomstick,” James grumbled, holding up his broom for them to see. It, too, was dripping with tomato.

“Ruined my fags, I think,” Sirius said. “Bloody muggle paper cartons. And Remus’s bag, too… Tergeo!”

“What about you take us to the Prefects’ Bathroom, Potter?” Marlene suggested, and now she was definitely laughing. 

“What do you mean, we can’t all three…”

James’s voice died in his throat and he swallowed extremely audibly. He stared from Marlene to Sirius and then Sirius could have sworn he blushed underneath all the tomato.

“I’m game, obviously,” Sirius said easily, like he had been the one to come up with the plan. “James?”

“Ah… Just to wash, yeah?” James stuttered, although the verb might also have been ‘watch’. 

Sirius exchanged a smirk with Marlene. 

“Let’s go.”

They left a tomato trail through most of the castle, and Sirius caught Marlene’s eyes a few times. There was definitely a challenge there, and he could feel a new spring to his step.

“Bubble scrub,” James said quietly when they got to the door on the fifth floor. He had been conspicuously quiet the whole way through mostly deserted corridors (they had met the ghosts of an extremely corpulent couple in 18th century hairdo’s who had pointed and laughed at them, but no one else), and now his voice quivered a little.

James stepped back to let Marlene pass first, and Sirius slapped a hand against James’s wet shoulder.

“You want to, or do you want me to make your excuses?”

“Do _you_ want to?” James hissed at him, and suddenly Sirius realised that part of the blatant worry was for him, and not because James was about to see a naked girl live for the first time.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, unease threatening to flood back. Then it stopped. “It’s just Marlene,” he said, realizing as he spoke that everything was ok. It was just a laugh, it always was with her.

James didn’t seem convinced, he looked unnerved even though he followed Sirius into the Prefects’ Bathroom. Marlene was standing underneath the big shower in the corner, clothes still on, washing the crushed tomato off herself. The nearly swimming pool-sized bathtub was filling itself up, fortunately not with the pear-smelling lotion Sirius associated with different times. There was sparkly, midnight blue froth in one end, and clear turquoise water in the other. Everything smelled like Sirius imagined a tropical beach might, like coconut and salty, fresh air.

“Oh,” James said softly, and Sirius looked up in time to see Marlene remove her robes. She only had underwear on underneath, and it was practically see-through by now. She reached behind herself for the clasp to her bra.

“You do you,” Sirius breathed into James’s tomato-smelling ear, then he walked up to Marlene. She smiled at him and let him have the shower while she went to put her clothes and wand on a bench along the wall. Sirius got undressed underneath the shower, making sure to rinse the worst of the tomato off his robes. Soon he felt hands on himself, small, exploring ones, and he found he didn’t mind at all. He had been dreading this, or secretly suppressing his dread for this, and now he was back in the game and feeling alright about it. It was such a relief that he could have burst into song, but then that might have ruined the mood. Marlene’s tits were out, and when he turned he could tell that they had become slightly bigger and plumper since he’d last seen them. Still small, but oh how good they felt in his hands… Just perfect.

“They always feel like concrete this time of month.”

Sirius felt a soft tug in his gut, something almost protective. He liked Marlene a lot, he realized, even if it would never be quite like that. He wanted her to feel good, though, to rid her of anything that ailed her. He made his hands gentle, caressed her breasts over and over until it was more massage than anything else. Soft pale skin and big nipples that felt like rubbery toys between his fingers.

When she began squirming from oversensitivity he let his hands travel down. There was no blood yet between her legs although Sirius checked with several fingers. She felt so good; warm and slick and her pubes neatly trimmed now, which was new. Her hips were a different shape too, broader and with a bit more meat on them, even though she was still a slip of a thing.

They left Sirius’s clothes and the shower behind, pushing each other into the tub, and Sirius was vaguely aware that James stepped underneath the shower in their stead.

They tried to kiss for a bit, but Marlene giggled throughout and it never got very deep. Sirius wondered if she was comparing the now to the back then, comparing his technique. She spent a lot of time touching his chest and back and arms, and he realized they must have changed since she had last had him like this. 

“You’ve probably tag-teamed before?”

“What?” James yelped. He was getting in at the end furthest away from them, lower body already covered in a plentiful layer of frothy bubbles. He stepped in and leant back resolutely, crossing his arms. He was plainly trying to look Marlene in the eye, but the fact that he had decided to wear his glasses in the bath rather gave his intentions away.

“Nah, not our scene,” Sirius said, reading his best mate’s face. “I think it’s likely he’s staying there.”

“That’s alright,” Marlene said, and it seemed as if she maybe understood the situation. The fact that she mouthed ‘Lily?’ to him next confirmed that. 

“I’ll eat you out, water’s no fun to fuck in,” Sirius suggested. Marlene’s mouth curled into a rather feline grin and he kissed her. 

“Feels weird, kissing you,” she confessed. “I mean, you’re good but… You know?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius lifted her out of the water and sat her down on the edge of the tub and found himself smirking at the thought of the view James was getting, then pressing his face between her legs. Still no blood, but sweet Merlin what a taste. He loved this, he realized with a moan, giving pleasure like this, tasting other people like this…

She pushed a shapely thin leg over his shoulder, and although he had to be reasonably gentle to begin with, after a few minutes he had Marlene’s hands combing restlessly through his hair, a minute more and he had her pulling it, and then she was thrusting her delicious centre into his mouth, his face. 

She was beautiful between her legs, her vulva the first one he counted, the one that had taught him to like sex. He knew it well still, knew exactly what she liked.

It was startlingly pink with fleshy labia he could part and suck into his mouth, one after the other. Her hole was slick and tasted just like he remembered, with added coconut. Her clitoris was possibly the best thing about her body, though, vulnerable to his touch at first, but with some gentle coaxing…

He made her come twice, second one with a few fingers fucking into her but lips still wrapped around her cute little clit, riding out her orgasm with her until she had stopped shaking... They switched places.

James was out of the tub and on the bench at the other end of the room, once more fully dressed when Sirius sat down on the edge of the pool-like tub. He hadn’t left, though, which Sirius had expected him to. His glasses were still on, glass a little foggy, and his cheeks were a healthy pink. Sirius just had time to give him a wink before his whole attention was taken up by Marlene’s mouth.

“Fuck you’re good at this,” he muttered, and after that he seemingly couldn’t stop complimenting her eyes and mouth, and especially the back of her mouth. Marlene managed to smile around him for some of it, and her eyes kept on laughing up until his come was hitting the back of her throat.

“Some warning would’ve been -”

Sirius slid down on shaking legs before she was finished talking and kissed her, good and deep and this time she didn’t laugh at him. 

“Thanks, that was great,” he said sincerely. “I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

Marlene smiled again, eyes happy, mostly, but also just a little bit apprehensive.

“Good, good… This was a one-off, yeah?”

“Of course,” Sirius reassured her. “I’m not boyfriend material, as you know. As we all know.”

Marlene’s eyes turned sad for a fraction of a second, her mouth opened but Sirius realized he would prefer not to hear it. He could admit that about himself, but it wasn’t as if he was actively looking for someone to criticize him more, or worse, pity him.

He swam to the other end of the tub and heaved himself out. James was staring piercingly at him and Sirius tried to calm him with another wink. 

“I think I’ll stay and soak some more,” Marlene said. “Dunno when I’ll next get the chance, I’ve hooked up with all the fit prefects already. And you two will presumably charm one of these taps to make bubbles in the image of hairy bollocks next and they’ll change the password again.”

“You should take that idea down in the prank book,” Sirius told James, but his best mate was still frowning at him. 

James had apparently dried their clothes with his wand while Sirius and Marlene were busy, and Sirius towelled himself off and threw his clothes back on. They still smelled a bit of produce, but since his skin smelled strongly of coconut it evened each other out. They told Marlene their goodbyes and left, James carrying his tomato-free broom and Sirius Remus’s backpack.

“Did you come?” Sirius couldn’t help but ask once they had closed the door and started walking through the torchlit corridors. He was grinning despite how disquieting it was to imagine James spunking in his hand, but really they had masturbated plenty over the same porn, so he supposed it wasn’t much stranger than that.

“Why would you think you aren’t ‘boyfriend material’?” James said, the first words coming out sharp and the last oddly gentle. 

“Because I’m not,” Sirius said slowly. “You’re taking the piss, right?”

“I’m not, no.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate much with his reply; his thoughts were fast and his mouth faster.

“I don’t get it,” Sirius said. “I don’t get _it_ , not the way you do, so I can’t give anyone what they need.”

“You gave McKinnon exactly what she needed just now.”

“I can do sex, you wanker. I’m good at sex.”

“Right. But you and Remus were more than sex, weren’t you?” James said bluntly. “I didn’t realize it before, but it was more, wasn’t it? I should’ve tried to help, but I didn’t understand…”

“I hope to fuck it wasn’t more than sex,” Sirius said harshly, “if it was, I’ve scarred him for life, haven’t I? No, he got to explore a bit and now he can go get the real thing.”

James’s eyes looked almost wet behind his glasses and Sirius frowned when he was hauled into James’s side, strong, wiry arm around him like James thought he needed it. He didn’t right now, though, and he almost pushed him off. A year ago he would have, he realized, feeling James’s hand squeeze his upper arm, a year ago he would have scoffed at the idea that you might want physical contact from someone you weren’t balls deep in.

“I didn’t get it,” James said again, but much more softly. “I thought it was for the best, that it had run its course…”

“You’re making a much bigger deal out of this than it was.”

James shook his head as though he didn’t believe him. Sirius gave him a shove, got rid of the suffocating, albeit well-meaning arm around him.

“You honestly think Remus will make a go of it with Meadowes? He’s shyer than a demiguise at the best of times and I’ve never seen him more embarrassed than he was after whatever happened between them. He won’t even talk about her now.”

“Might be just the moon,” Sirius tried. 

“Fiddlesticks. He isn’t into her, I don’t reckon.”

James was giving him a look, and for once Sirius didn’t know what it meant. They were coming into earshot of the Fat Lady, however, so Sirius didn’t ask. Besides, he had a feeling he might not like what James was trying to say, anyway. Sirius really hoped Remus would come to like Dorcas, though. That had been the whole point, surely, give Remus a confidence boost and a push in the right direction. He needed someone by his side, something Sirius had never realized before. He did, though, with that level of hurt and self-doubt, that brittleness that lived and breathed so precariously inside…

“Rhubarb and custard.”

“In you come, boys, in you come. Curfew’s just around the corner!”

Sirius ignored the Fat Lady and climbed in after James. The Common Room was crowded, but they didn’t need to look to know that Remus wasn’t there. Peter was likely upstairs keeping him company, or badgering for help with his homework that Remus likely wasn’t in any state to give.

Their dormitory was lit by just a couple of candles and the window was open. Sirius could still smell marijuana, or more likely Adam. Peter was sitting on his bed with one of the candles, books and parchment spilling over the covers and already in pyjamas. 

Sirius barely even greeted him, instead he made a beeline to Remus’s bed. The curtains were drawn only partially, and Remus’s head was peeking out of the covers. His brow was sweaty with fever, his curly hair looked sad and unkempt. Sirius wished he had been in the Prefects’ Bathroom with them, he could have washed it for him. Marlene wasn’t the only one who got sore this time of month, either, Remus’s joints… But he wouldn’t let him. Of course he wouldn’t let him, not now.

“What’s all this?” Remus grunted, looking sleepy and endearingly bewildered when Sirius upended his rucksack on the bed.

“The chocolate,” Sirius explained haughtily, “we decided you needed to get it.”

“You shouldn’t have, really. I don’t have the money to-”

“Stop being a wanker,” Sirius interrupted him. “They had some new truffles that make your teeth gold-coloured. And there’s plenty of the caramel-filled stuff as well.”

Remus bit his lip and didn’t reply. He looked too exhausted for much other emotion, and it didn’t escape Sirius that he wasn’t moving a muscle; fruitless attempt to keep the pain in his joints from flaring up. Sirius took a handful of the truffles and began unwrapping them, placing them in a row next to Remus’s face.

“I’ll roll you another spliff, yeah? Bet Peter did a shit job with the last one, he always tries to put too much in the rolling paper.”

Sirius turned on his heel, and to his great annoyance he found that both James and Peter were staring at him, listening in. James had the sappiest, most pathetic of smiles on his face, only he also looked sad again, like he was watching someone die in front of him. Sirius scowled at him and he didn’t deign Peter with so much as a look.

“Remus, you have to tell Hope again that I love the drawing she sent,” James said.

There was a soft grunt but also the noise of chewing from Remus’s bed. Sirius glanced at the drawing; Mrs Lupin had drawn a family of deer, a stag and a hind and a tiny little bambi with dots on it. Remus had said she almost always drew woodland creatures, and he insisted he hadn’t made deer jokes about James in his mother’s company. The likeness between the stag in the picture and Prongs was uncanny, however. It just looked older, Sirius thought, squinting at it, a bit bigger than Prongs, less juvenile. Bigger crown on its head, weighing it down. More graceful but less carefree, maybe, but then the deer in the drawing had a family. Sirius knew that was what James wanted, what he aimed for. Mrs Lupin had probably been able to tell, just from looking. 

Sirius wondered what sort of drawing he would have received, had he been the one to save Remus that night. Not a family, he thought, Hope had looked at him with knowing eyes the last time they had met. She could read people, so she would have seen that he wasn’t the type to settle. A big black dog with a shiny, glossy coat and a proud tilt to its head. Maybe howling on a hill it had just conquered. Was that it? Or would it have looked like it had been kicked? Like it had done something it shouldn’t have and gotten punished for it. Only the world hits back so much harder, crushes you for the smallest of transgressions. 

Kicked or not, it would still have held its head high, Sirius thought. A lone dog, although dogs weren’t meant to be solitary. He wasn’t like the others, though. The only people he could ever imagine would matter to him were in this room with him. The four of them was all he could see in his future, the four of them against the world. The four of them would have to be enough.


	81. What's that coming over the hill, is it a monster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Monster" by The Automatic.

“Exactly how gay are you and Remus?” Peter asked, taking a careful puff on the spliff. It was almost finished, and he had to be careful not to burn himself.

There was a dense silence and Peter looked up from the smoking, fiddly thing between his fingers. When he did, James began to giggle, fist pressing futilely against his mouth.

“The fuck, Wormtail?” Sirius’s intense, grey eyes bored into him.

“No, I mean…” Peter halted, realizing that he had somehow said the wrong thing. He didn’t know who to believe, either, was it funny like James thought, or misguided like Sirius’s sharp glare suggested? Maybe he had smoked too much.

“Yeah, I mean, how gay are you, Pads?” James barely got the words out, he was laughing so hard and his hand was still in the way.

“Ouch,” Peter stated, dropping the red-hot stump of the spliff onto the floorboards. They were in the Shrieking Shack, downstairs waiting for Moony who was in one of the bedrooms, and from the sounds of moaning, still very much human. “I mean, you must both have given it some thought? Because you… But also, him and Dorcas, yeah? And you and… Well. You and Marlene and Polly and Delia and Paulina and Azalea and Corintha and-”

“Get to the bloody point, if you have one.”

“I’ve just been thinking-”

“Thinking about me sticking my dick into a clenching arsehole, are you? Think about it often?”

“No!” Peter squealed, eyes wide and James still giggling by his shoulder. Sirius’s face was completely devoid of emotion, which Peter had learnt meant either that he was joking, or that he was furious… “I just thought, that if you are gay, and I’m not judging mind, but if you are, then I mean, you aren’t being very consistent about it, are you? Not very good at it?”

James howled beside him, now having to support himself on Peter’s shoulder to stay upright. Peter swayed a little, his head really was a muddle.

“Well, now we at least know what your thoughts are on the matter, that’s a relief for everyone I’m sure,” Sirius said sarcastically. “Tell you what, Wormy, I’ll tell you the ins and outs of my sex life as soon as you manage to get your dick wet, how is that?”

“You’ll have to wait years!” James laughed, over the noise of thumps from upstairs. Agonizing groans. “We need to change, gents, come on!”

Peter felt glued to the spot, probably because of the weed. _Years?_ He watched Sirius give him one last, utterly disdainful look before he gracefully morphed into something wild and black balancing on powerful haunches before it put its front paws down, ears pricking, its sharp grey eyes meeting his, such a huge animal that it was barely a head shorter than Peter. James had made his way to the back door and opened it with their pass phrase, out of necessity of course as he couldn’t fit through the door after he transformed. It was dark outside, but the moon still shone brightly enough that Peter could see the powerful body clearly, the slender legs, the crown of antlers reaching to the heavens. Prongs was russet in daylight, but with the moon on him he looked bright and pale, almost ghostly, or maybe more like a patronus. 

They had studied patronuses in Defense Against the Dark Arts earlier in the day, and Professor Scarborough had told them that they would get to try to produce one in class if they made it through their OWL:s and continued with their studies into NEWT:s. Peter had seen James and Sirius exchange looks in class; he knew they were going to give it a try already. They were always up for new challenges, and rarely were they bested by any new magic.

Peter could hear the groans morph into doglike whines upstairs. Like an animal that had been kicked about and was now cowering in the corner. He hated that noise almost as much as he hated the one he knew would come next. A growl as the monster took charge of its rightful body.

Peter looked down on his hands; pudgy and pink and a little bit dirty for crawling through the passageway. Some ash from the spliff. He focused as well as he could, focused on the change he knew must come… There was a nervous bleat from the doorway, and Peter looked up again, saw that both Padfoot and Prongs were staring intently at him. The werewolf got onto its feet upstairs, sharp nails on the wooden floor. Padfoot barked, but not towards the noise upstairs, but at Peter. Then he moved towards the stairs, stopping by the lowest step like a guard dog. Another nervous bleat from the doorway, a scraping of hooves on grass.

And Peter found it, finally, got what it was. What he was, his other self. That wonderful, exciting, highly skilled trick he could do, the thing that set him apart from others but also cemented his bond to his friends. His mates. He spun and squeaked, four tiny little feet hitting the floor, a long, sleek tail he could chase and waggle and fold around himself slashing across the worn floorboards. 

He scuttled off towards the door, the door where the huge deer was lowering its head to the doorstep, antlers catching a bit in the brickwork of the wall. Prongs’s eyes were huge, the darkest of hazel and with long lashes framing them. His nostrils were funny things, huge and mobile and so alive-looking, and Peter chose the route between them, climbing the smooth fur of the muzzle, up, up, up on fast little feet. There was a spot for him underneath the crown of antlers, a thronelike place between ears, on the plateau of the head. It was soft there, warm. Fur to hold onto if the speed became too much for him.

He made himself comfortable and turned around just in time to see the werewolf manoeuvring itself downstairs. It was almost exactly the same size as Padfoot, but more unwieldy, less proportionate. Hunched shoulders, protruding chest. Sharp angles to its legs. The fur was just as thick but looked coarser than Padfoot’s glossy coat. Grey, mostly, with a bit of pale brown, some white and some black. The paws looked almost like talons, huge black nails that scraped and tore at anything it walked on. The eyes were crazed, always. Insane.

He saw them greet each other, sniffing each other. Padfoot’s tail was wagging to and fro most excitedly. The werewolf, despite its evil eyes and toothy grin, made a noise that was soft and yearning. It was moving to Padfoot’s face, Peter saw, both of them with open, panting mouths, shiny pink tongues. Licking each other in the face.

Abruptly he was moving up, like he was travelling in a muggle lift. Prongs had decided they should not watch this, whatever ‘this’ was. The dog and werewolf frequently got close, sometimes to wrestle or to chase each other’s tails, and licking wasn’t exactly new, either. Peter listened to the noises inside while they waited; he did have excellent hearing. It was getting playful in there, he thought, more panting and some roughhousing and tails thumping against the floorboards. A growl or two, but of the non-threatening variety. All good, for now. But make no mistake, Peter thought, there was a real monster in there. He never forgot. He knew danger when he saw it. His whiskers twitched.

There was a volley of barks and then both canines burst through the door; one domesticated and one wild and feral. Padfoot was trying to take the lead but then Prongs stumbled into action, his movement bumpy at first, turning graceful as he descended into a trot. Peter sniffed eagerly in the night air; everything smelled good at night. One with nature, a comforting sort of belonging. Peter belonged here, and he knew the others felt the same way. The school was theirs when they were human; they had found out more about their school and its secrets than surely anyone had since the time of the founders. But the forest, too, the Forbidden Forest was theirs on a night like this. Only, it would appear that they were not going deeper into the forest tonight. Instead they were prancing up the country lane that lead away from the forest and towards the village, the hill the Shack stood upon leaving shadows behind them.

The cottages on the outskirts were coming into view, most of them tiny and made from stone from the mountains around them and with large gardens. Spring was beginning to show in said gardens; daffodils and crocuses and crab-apple trees in bloom, but also magical plants like fortune teller’s anemone and whistling scilla. Wormtail wasn’t bothered by the new flora, even though Peter the human suffered from his allergies every spring and long into the summers. 

Every window they passed was dark, curtains drawn on most. Peter spotted a cat watching them from the shadows of a veranda, its eyes going opaque with moonlight. Wormtail wasn’t scared, though, quite the opposite. He was safe and confident up here; protected. The rat was amongst its friends.

Prongs quite brazenly chose to lead the way through the centre of the village, and even if he did speed up to a canter it was still risky, not to mention loud. Peter twitched excitedly when they passed the Three Broomsticks, thought about Madam Rosmerta and how good she looked when she poured elf-made mead from the tap into overflowing pints. Prongs went off to the left, hooves clattering on the cobblestones, both canines panting behind them. Peter heard it too; noise of drunken singing coming from the Hog’s Head on their right. Better avoid that, even though the amount of drink that was served in that establishment meant that nobody in there was likely to believe their own eyes if they saw a ragtag group of animals run past.

Peter heard growls and a scuffle, he turned in time to see Padfoot take the werewolf by the scruff of its neck, guiding it away from the noise of people. The werewolf was trying to howl, but the noise came out strangled. It stopped struggling and let itself be herded off; they were headed for the nearest mountain.

If it was a steep ascent then Peter didn’t really notice it. He loved the view up here; the village near at first but quickly growing distant and soon looking like a collection of gingerbread houses, displaced in the lushness of spring. The werewolf and the dog rushed past them, chasing each other, competing for the top, tongues lolling out of their mouths and little stones and pebbles cascading around their paws. Prongs picked up the speed, too, and Peter had to hold on to the fur around him. There were leaps and abrupt halts more often than a steady gallop, but Peter still felt safe here. Knew he mattered, knew Prongs would stop if he pulled his ear.

There was a hair-raising howl from above, melodic yet terrifying. It was joined by another, more natural-sounding one, and Prongs leapt out onto the plateau, they were near the top, further up than where they had picnicked and overlooking the village. Moony and Padfoot were standing side by side, snouts in the air and serenading the village, moon bloated in the sky, a piercing, almost malevolent spotlight. Peter was torn between laughter and fright, the rat compromised by twitching some more, spinning some coarse hairs between its front paws. 

They stayed up high for a couple of hours. They had one near miss when Moony tried to make a break for it. He was tackled by Padfoot, then reprimanded by Prongs who lowered his sharp head and snorted in the werewolf’s face. Moony became docile after, trembled and whined and let Padfoot groom him. Peter knew they would all find it pretty funny once they were back on two legs again, but as animals it all sort of made sense. He wasn’t truly a rat, and he doubted James truly felt like a deer or Sirius like a dog, but there was something more animal in them still, something that helped make them less lost in translation.

On the way down they were all growing tired and had the speed to match. Peter was already growing worried that they wouldn’t make it back into the Shack before sunrise, especially since they took a slightly longer way back so as not to pass in plain sight now that it wasn’t pitch black outside anymore. Hogsmeade housed many nosy pensioners after all, early risers bound to be numerous amongst them.

There was high shrubbery and the occasional tree behind the last row of houses and cottages, maybe it had been a village green at some point in time. They heard several baas and bleats from goats, but by now Moony was too tired to pay much attention. The beast wasn’t big on attacking animals, anyway, as far as Peter could tell. Just humans.

Nature and village were completely silent when they reached the top of the hill the Shrieking Shack was on. There was a specific point in the fence the others could jump over, and then they waded through high, dead grass and fresh, short new grass, overgrown currant bushes and knobbly apple and plum trees. The Shack truly looked awful, like it might crumble to bits if you poked the wrong wall. The windows were all boarded up but there were cracks in the walls, holes in the roof. 

Prongs stopped by the back door, which they had left ajar. Padfoot led Moony inside, nudging his side, his neck. The werewolf threw a look behind it, one Peter caught. It was frighteningly calculating behind the obvious insanity, behind the exhaustion. Peter had a feeling that the monster was very pleased indeed to have others taking care of it. Keeping it company and showing it around, like it was fine. Like it was acceptable. Wormtail twitched uncomfortably. The two canines were out of sight from his vantage point, but then Padfoot came back into view, trotting importantly, head held high, and rummaging near the door before he came away with a blanket in his jaws. 

Peter tried to shut out his hearing afterwards, but he couldn’t quite manage. The werewolf was in agonising pain as soon as the first rays of sunlight began licking up the hill, up the ruined walls of the Shack, and it cried and thrashed around on the floor with Padfoot presumably trying to keep it still. Then there was the noise of Remus, hacking cough and a barely human whimper afterwards. Peter was flooded with relief and he scrambled off Prongs’s head, scuttled down his muscular neck and almost fell off his scraggly front leg.

They transformed at pretty much the exact same time, tumbling into each other when they hurried through the back door. Remus was huddled in his blanket and had grown quiet now, maybe passed out. He looked tiny like this, so bony and thin Peter found himself wondering how he was even being kept together. How his body was still in one piece.

Sirius’s hands were hovering uncertainly above a knobbly shoulder, but when Peter and James entered he stood up, hands clenching into fists by his side.

“Alright, Remus?” James said, his voice much too loud in the quiet room, then he bent down and patted the protruding shoulder. “We need to get going before Pomfrey gets here, yeah? You did splendidly, have a well-deserved rest now.”

“See you later, Moony,” Peter whispered, following James to the trap door. He couldn’t help peeking over his shoulder to watch Sirius, but Sirius didn’t do anything at all, just watched with his fists clenched before he, too, followed.

Peter was too tired to talk much when they walked, uncomfortably hunched over in the secret passageway. They had to be quick, too, considering Madam Pomfrey, but that didn’t stop James and Sirius from talking. Whatever odd atmosphere Peter had detected earlier was gone now, those two were joking and bickering like normal, laughing about Moony’s attempt to run off on them, and making jokes about goats and the bartender and the Hog’s Head that Peter didn’t quite understand.

The sun was burning orange on the grass when they emerged from between the Whomping Willow’s roots. Peter sniffed in the air. His nose began to itch immediately, which was as sure a sign as any that spring was upon them.

James grabbed hold of his arm, suddenly, Invisibility cloak covering all three of them with some difficulty. Peter closed his eyes and transformed once more, then climbed up the hem of James’s robes and up onto his shoulder. They got into the castle without mishap, even though they did spot Peeves who was bouncing around near the ceiling of the Entrance Hall, holding several see-through water balloons all filled with yellowish liquid. 

Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, although Peter did think he heard a door closing somewhere in the west wing when they climbed the stairs. James and Sirius mercifully kept quiet until they were outside of the Common Room.

“Rhubarb and custard,” Sirius said, stepping out from underneath the cloak and making the Fat Lady’s eyes goggle. 

“Not at this time of night, surely!” she said sternly, but then she winked when James too came into view, stashing the cloak into his pocket and Peter still in rat form on his shoulder. 

“Good morning,” James said courteously, and Peter was certain he winked back. “I think we have some sandwiches upstairs, right, Sirius? Chocolate at the very least.”

“As long as you watch what the little one eats,” the Fat Lady said domineeringly, and Sirius and James both sniggered. Peter felt confused at first, because Remus could really use a heartier appetite, but how on earth would they coax him to eat more? Then, with a sinking feeling to his tiny rodent stomach, he realized that the little one was he, Peter.

The portrait had swung open and Peter had to focus on holding on while James climbed through. He was ready to say something, perhaps state that he felt a bit offended when he was safely on the floor of the Common Room and had turned back into his human form, but by then James and Sirius were slapping each other on their backs, deep in conversation about which portrait would win in a fight. Peter shut his mouth and followed them upstairs, where he graciously accepted a ham and cheese sandwich. 

Peter woke up alone in the dormitory, and a quick look at the clock let him know that lunch was over. He groaned, annoyed that his friends hadn’t thought to wake him, but making the best of things by eating a leftover sandwich from last night and some of the chocolates surrounding Moony’s empty bed. Sirius would kill him if he took too many, but a few would be alright, especially since they had forgotten to wake him. It was only right, and besides, surely nobody could eat this much chocolate on their own?

He didn’t see his friends in the Common Room and realized that they were probably in the hospital wing, waiting for Remus to be discharged. He saw Lily, sitting by the fire with books all around her, talking to Mary. Marlene was chatting up one of the seventh years by the window and Peter noticed that most of James’s quidditch teammates were huddled together, pointing rather less than discreetly at Marlene and looking like their whispered words were anything but nice. Pippa was playing chess with her friend again, but she was seated with her back to him. Peter blushed when he saw her friend eye him, he almost made eye contact with her by mistake.

Nobody greeted Peter or waved him over, so he climbed out of the portrait hole with his stomach rumbling.

“No eating in the dormitories, you hear me?” the Fat Lady shouted at his retreating back, and Peter felt angry and humiliated, especially as his stomach made a noise that to his ears seemed to echo off the walls of the corridor. He was going to the kitchens and nothing that spiteful, overbearing portrait said could stop him.

“Peter, is that you?”

Peter looked around, hand reaching out and about to tickle the pear, jumpy as though he had been caught in some wrongdoing or other. Students weren’t technically forbidden to be in the kitchens, but teachers like McGonagall were still likely to dock points if they found out about it. The person talking to him wasn’t a Professor, though.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Remus, really, but he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Ah,” Peter said awkwardly, trying to meet Dorcas’s eyes as best he could. Her gaze was piercing even though her smile was kind. She nodded, once, as though he had somehow answered her question.

“But that’s a different conversation for another time,” she mused, “I’m sure he’ll come find me once he’s ready.”

“I’m sure,” Peter repeated vaguely. Dorcas had been about to leave, he felt sure, but something seemed to arrest her, made her look him up and down with a frown. Peter wondered if he looked fat to her.

“Actually, there might be something you could help me with as well. Well, not me exactly, but… Hmm. Remus did mention that you’re good at being unobtrusive.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re quite small, aren’t you? People don’t easily notice you.”

Peter was ready to react unfavourably, but then he realized that her description could be construed as the opposite of fat.

“You must have a lot of experience with sneaking around, yeah? I’m not judging, mind, but I, or rather someone I know, could use someone like you in a matter of some importance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I was supposed to have a fourth chapter today but I got stuck on something in it. I have the final chapters all outlined now though, so there's an end in sight. Big thanks to everyone who's left kudos and comments, it means a lot!! :)


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